


Stars and Stripes: an American Musical

by Archetype_ElectraHeart



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Darcy champions the USO girls, Darcy loves Twitter, F/M, Jane Foster & Darcy Lewis Friendship, Tony Stark Has Daddy Issues, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Who Lives Who Dies Who Tells Your Story, and there is a lot of feminism, in which Darcy and Jane write a Hamilton-esque musical about Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-07-18 12:11:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 29,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7314700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archetype_ElectraHeart/pseuds/Archetype_ElectraHeart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster are college roommates who embark on a mission to create a musical about Steve Rogers that highlights the unsung heroes of his story: his mother, Peggy Carter, and the USO girls.</p><p>Of course, Steve Rogers was never supposed to be alive to see it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The origins of Stars and Stripes: an American Musical, wherein Darcy fights the academic establishment and Jane gets an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve is technically still frozen for 95% of this chapter, so he won't appear until Chapter 2.

Darcy was a history major, writing her undergraduate thesis on Steve Rogers as a secret feminist icon, seeking to expose the macho mythos that sprung up around him in the 1950s for a PR campaign that was based more on fantasy than fact.

Her college roommate, Jane Foster, was the wunderkind of the music department. Proficient in a number of instruments, a gifted lyricist, an innovative composer, Jane was destined for great things, every member of the faculty agreed. If only she would focus on a more serious genre of music, they lamented. If only she weren’t quite so revolutionary with her choices, if only she opted for less controversial subject matter, if only she tried to be more marketable.

Darcy was the little red devil on Jane’s shoulder that kept her pushing back against the old fuddy-duddies in the department.

Jane was the one who listened to every draft of Darcy’s papers, every iteration of her thesis. She told Darcy to play her interviews with the USO girls out loud when she was transcribing them because Jane liked to listen to the lilt and rhythm and intertwining of the voices, the foreign laughs interspersed with Darcy’s familiar one, the way emotion altered the timbre of their voice as they told their stories.

Jane started composing songs alongside the interviews, charting their humor and affection and grief. She played recordings of them for Darcy, who started crying silently on her extra-long twin bed, because these women had become her friends over the past several months.

So Darcy kept interviewing and writing and Jane kept absorbing all these stories, until one night, as they munched on pizza in a crappy little place around the corner from their apartment, Darcy went on a rant about how badly history had failed the very people who had made Steve Rogers who he was.

“Where is Sarah Rogers?” she cried. “Where is the documentary or book or article that acknowledges that Sarah Rogers had an abusive husband? That she was a nurse who worked in the TB ward knowing that she was putting herself at risk, but she did it because it was the right thing to do? Because she took her oath as a nurse seriously?”

Darcy took a sip of her soda and put the cup back down on the laminate table with a loud thunk. “If I read one more take on how Steve Rogers' father was his inspiration because he fought in the first World War, because he was in the 107th…” Darcy gave an inarticulate sound of rage. “God forbid that a woman be the source of inspiration for America’s Greatest Soldier. And don’t even get me _started_ on Peggy Carter!” she ground out as she picked the mushrooms off of her slice of pizza to toss onto Jane’s plate.

   
***

 

A few weeks later, Darcy came stumbling into their room, fresh from the train station, her cheeks flushed and hair wild and eyes hard. “Did you know that no major biographer of Steve Rogers has ever had in-depth interviews with all the USO Girls? The woman I talked to today, Virginia Beauchamp, she has a handful of original sketches by Steve Rogers that she’s been keeping all safe in these archival envelopes. Said no one outside the family has ever seen them, no one’s ever interviewed her before.”

Darcy set her bag on the bed and drew out a folder, gingerly pulling out a yellowed sheet of paper in a plastic sleeve. “Janie, she gave me one. Said she was so happy to hear about what I was doing, and she was so impressed by all the work I’d put in…”

Jane took the sketch from Darcy and examined it. It was clearly a group portrait of three of the USO girls, braiding one another’s hair on an unmade bed, with a little “SR” penciled into the bottom right corner. Along the bottom of the sheet, in neat cursive, he had written, _“Virginia, Muriel, and Anamaria - St. Louis, MO - February 1944_.”

“She’s dying, Jane. She told me she has cancer and the doctors don’t think she’ll make it another year.” Darcy collapsed onto her bed, shoulders slumped, voice gone tight in the way that meant she was about to cry. “How many of them died before they could tell their story? How many of them will never live to see it told the way they deserve?”

Jane gently placed the sketch in the middle of Darcy’s desk and sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You’ll make sure their stories get told, Darce. I know you’ll do everything you can to give them a voice they can be proud of.”

 

***

 

Then Jane had an assignment for her composition class that she kept drawing a blank for, so she listened to Darcy’s interview recordings again, more attentive this time, and wondered if maybe Darcy wasn’t the only one who could give these women a voice.

“Hey, Darce.”

She glanced up from the article she was highlighting with a grunt. “What?”

“Can you send me that paper you wrote on Sarah Rogers?”

Darcy eyed her curiously for a moment before shrugging and hauling her laptop closer. “Yeah, of course.”

And so it began.

   
***  
 

Finally, after rolling the idea around in her head for another week, Jane ran it by Darcy as they munched on tacos from the food truck on the quad.

“I’m thinking about writing a musical about Steve Rogers.”

Darcy slowly put down her taco and laughed. “Janie, you do realize that people already think we’re weirdly codependent right? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for it. But-”

“But I want to tell it almost entirely from other people’s point of view. Mostly the women in his life.”

Darcy’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”

Jane nodded. “We can’t leave out Bucky Barnes, obviously, or the other Howling Commandos, but I figure we can use a lot of your research on Peggy Carter and Sarah Rogers and the USO Girls…”

“We?”

“I know music. But you know thesepeople, Darce. I can’t make them real without your help.” Jane shrugged. “What do you say? Want to help me write a musical about your historical crush?”

“Yeah." Darcy smiled. "Yeah, let’s do it.”

The two girls fist-bumped over the picnic table to seal the deal before returning to their tacos.

“Also, please never refer to him as my historical crush ever again.” Darcy took a bite of her taco before continuing, delivering a deadpan, “He’s my historical boyfriend.” 

Jane laughed so hard she snorted soda out of her nose.

 

***

 

The girls moved to New York together for graduate school: Darcy for History, Jane for Musical Theater Writing.

They continued to work on the show in between their course work. Jane made Darcy sing demos for a few of the songs, using her own voice on others, until they could listen to the score the whole way through.

There was one scene in particular that Jane always made Darcy record. It was the next to last scene in the show, the one that recreated the last moments of Steve Roger’s life. Steve was present only as a disembodied voice in a faithful recreation of his final radio call with Peggy, taken directly from archival records. The radio call was followed by Peggy’s lament.

One night, Jane filmed Darcy singing Peggy’s lament for Steve in their crappy one bedroom apartment. Darcy was not trained and her voice was not objectively beautiful, but it was dear to Jane, and she could imagine no one embodying Peggy better than Darcy, who had lived with her in her head for years, who seemed to know her inside and out. By the end of it, Darcy was in tears and Jane was covered in goosebumps.

Darcy wiped her cheeks with both hands and looked up at Jane with a smile. “How was that?”

“Perfect.” Jane laughed, a triumphant little burst of noise, and shook her head in disbelief. “We really did it, Darce.”

 

***

 

Darcy and Jane shopped around their musical for months without any takers.

 _“Who wants to watch a musical about Captain America?”_ they asked. _“Have you thought about writing something on Iron Man? He's hot right now.”_

 _“Have you got anything with a little more edge?”_ they wondered.

 _“What if we added in a racy little number for the USO Girls? Throw in some lingerie?”_ one dared to ask.

Darcy had gone off on him, ranting and cursing up a storm as Jane watched, passively supportive. “Have you no respect?” Darcy screeched. “Those women deserve better than your misogynistic pandering, you tasteless buffoon.”

 

  
***

 

And then the Battle of New York happened.

 

It turned out that Captain America wasn’t quite so dead as everyone had believed, and interest in the Avengers boomed overnight. Darcy and Jane were suddenly fielding calls from the very producers who had turned them down months earlier, each clamoring to capitalize on the superhero craze that had suddenly gripped the country.

It was a boon even greater than the girls could have hoped for. They could demand more generous contracts, insist on greater creative control--no changes to the script, a diverse cast, and completely blind casting for the orchestra.

They finally had an honest to God Broadway musical on their hands.

 

 

The night they signed the contract, the girls went out and got horrifically drunk to celebrate.

“You know what’s really weird?” Darcy slurred.

“What?” Jane mumbled around her cocktail straw.

“Well, when we did all this,” she gestured a little too emphatically, sloshing her drink over the side of her glass, “there was no way Steve Rogers was ever gonna see it, because he was dead. Only now…” Darcy hiccuped. “He could see it. Steve Rogers could see our show. He could read my _thesis_.” She suddenly downed the rest of her drink. “That’s not cool. Why couldn’t he stay dead?”

“That’s rude,” Jane mumbled. “Wanting your historical boyfriend to stay dead. You should be happy about his...alive-ness.”

"It's not that I'm not happy he's not dead," Darcy argued. "It's that it was rude of him to come back to life right _now_ , when it's really inconvenient for me. He's supposed to be considerate. Everybody said so."

"Whatever," Jane mumbled. "Who would see a musical about themselves, anyway? That's weird. And narcissisist-" She stumbled over the word.

"Narcissistic," Darcy enunciated carefully before giving a decisive nod. "You're right. Steve Rogers would _never_."

"Never," Jane agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [photoset on tumblr is here!](https://pepperpottsblogs.tumblr.com/post/146552480370/stars-and-stripes-an-american-musical-by)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy gets a Twitter; Stars and Stripes opens on Broadway; Steve finds out about it; the girls start their media tour, and Darcy gets a very special surprise.

**EatMorePizza @TheOfficialDarcy**  Welcome to the Twitterverse! Why do you think Captain America doesn't have a Twitter?

 **TheOfficialDarcy @EatMorePizza** because even a guy who downed his own plane has a better sense of self preservation than I do, apparently

 

***

 

The only thing that surprised Darcy more than their musical actually making it to a stage was the way it became an overnight sensation.

Because after the high of knowing it was (eventually) going to be a real live stage production, there were months and months of logistics and auditions and costume sewing and set building to take care of. She consulted on costumes and sets, to make sure things were as historically accurate as she could make them and let the cast pick her brain about their characters, while Jane spent more of her time dropping into orchestra rehearsals and chatting with the director.

 

And then, somehow, it was opening night.

Darcy and Jane helped each other get ready in their tiny apartment. Darcy only narrowly managed to avoid spraying Jane in the face with her hairspray, and had to go through several pairs of black tights before she found a pair that didn’t already have a run in them. Her cocktail dress and Jane’s were both rented, their cosmetics were drug-store bought, and they were splurging on cab fare to the theater only because neither of them were steady enough in their heels to take the subway without injury. The whole thing was absurd, and Darcy could feel the hysterical laughter trapped in her throat the whole way to the theater, her hand intertwined tightly with Jane’s on the leather seat.

 

The took their seats in one of the fancy boxes that overlooked the stage, the kind of seats that neither of their families had ever been able to afford, and continued to clutch at one another’s hand as they waited, watching the crowds of people mill around below them.

And then the house lights dimmed, and the overture started to pour out of the orchestra pit, and the curtains opened.

The rest of it felt like a dream.

 

And it wasn’t as though Darcy had never seen the show before, because she had been to rehearsals. She knew that the actress who played Peggy was a powerhouse with a voice that rang true as a bell and that the two guys who played Skinny Steve and Serum Steve had all the conviction and energy and sheer heart that it took to play the part convincingly.

She already knew that the lilting, cheerful lullaby that a bruised Sarah Rogers sang to her infant son was touching and encouraging and the kind of melody that stuck in your head for days. She had sifted through Sarah Roger’s diary to pull phrases for My Darling Boy so that Sarah could speak for herself, as much as Darcy could manage, and to make sure that anything Darcy invented had the right voice.

She knew that her USO Girls were flawless, because they had not cast them as an ensemble chorus, they had cast each of them as an individual USO Girl and Darcy had met with all of them to talk about their particular character. So Virginia moved like the ballet dancer she had trained to be and spoke like a girl from New Orleans, and Margot snapped her gum more than was considered ladylike, and Anamaria cursed at Steve in Italian when he messed up the dance steps but smacked a crimson lip print onto his cheek when he got them right and then tried to rub it out with firm presses of her thumb as he blushed and squirmed. Darcy had experienced the same treatment from an 87 year old Anamaria when she visited her out on Long Island.

Their Bucky Barnes was charming and rakish, but he also sang about being drafted into Steve’s father’s regiment, about being frightened of the war but determined to do his best and worried about what Steve would get himself into without Bucky there to back him up. He was right to worry, of course, because Steve sang counter to Bucky about falsifying his enlistment papers so that he could do what was right alongside his friend. So far as Darcy could tell, Steve Rogers had never known that Bucky had been drafted, but Rebecca had, and his enlistment number and army records proved it.

When Bucky returned to the narrative after his rescue, his edges were sharper and his humor was darker, because Bucky Barnes was one of the army’s best snipers and he had been a prisoner of war and as much as the army had transformed Steve’s body, it had changed Bucky too. But he never trailed around after Steve Rogers like an afterthought. Bucky Barnes may not have chosen to become a soldier, but he chose to follow Steve. Darcy would not allow him to be reduced to a plucky sidekick.

Steve Rogers was palpably heartbroken and grieving after his best friend’s fall. Steve’s eulogy for Bucky, The End of the Line, was the only time he sang by himself on stage, the only time that Steve spoke entirely for himself. It had been one of the last pieces that Darcy and Jane had declared finished, the one that left them tearing their hair out for months on end, the one that sent Darcy back to the archives to watch footage of the two of them together and read Rebecca Barnes’ memories about the pair of them until Darcy and Jane finally felt they had it right. It was heart-rendingly perfect.

Steve and Peggy’s final radio call was understated and haunting and Marcia's performance of Peggy’s lament was the perfect mix of anger and affection and pride and grief. It left Darcy--and from what she could tell, much of the theater--in tears.

When the lights finally came up at the end of the show to a standing ovation, Darcy was beaming so broadly that her cheeks hurt and Jane was crying and laughing next to her.

 

They made their way backstage and finally emerged into the innards of the theater to find their cast and crew buzzing about, electric and buoyant, high on the the feeling of a successful opening night. Darcy and Jane darted around, hugging and kissing everyone they could catch--heedless of sweat and stage makeup--before they headed out the stage door, whispering fervent thank yous to all of them, from “Peggy” to “Skinny Steve” to the stage managers and the lighting crew.

Darcy and Jane finally piled back into a cab at the end of the night, hearts full and faces tear-stained, and went back to their apartment that night with a mixture of joy and trepidation.

All that remained were the reviews.

 

 

To their mutual shock, Stars and Stripes became a darling of the New York theater scene, the majority of critics making Tony predictions that made Darcy and Jane scoff in disbelief.

All of a sudden, their show was the hottest ticket in town, meaning only God or Tony Stark himself could get a ticket less than six months ahead of time, and their cast was performing numbers on the national morning news.

Darcy and Jane cheered them on from their ratty green futon, cups of coffee in hand, and sent effusive texts to their cast after each performance.

 

***

 

 **TheOfficialDarcy** Watching **@Today** with Jane and cheering on our magnificent cast for their FIRST tv performance! (I’m screaming inside!!)

 **TheOfficialDarcy** Cast of **@StarsNStripes** KILLIN IT on **@Today**!! Jane and I are toasting your magnificence with day-old coffee bc it's too early for champagne!

 **AntonioOnBroadway** making **@TheOfficialDarcy**  and Jane proud is always a good feeling :) but please make fresh coffee, D! you deserve better!

 **TheOfficialDarcy @AntonioOnBroadway** without this caffeinated sludge **@StarsNStripes** would have never been written! Don’t knock it til you try it! It's like injecting jet fuel into my bloodstream!

 

***

 

It didn't take long for the media to come for Jane and Darcy themselves. They wanted the story _behind_ the show, to hear from the young women who had taken America’s favorite icon of patriotism and masculine virility and turned the light on the actual man behind the uniform.

For a brief while, the girls resisted. They would let the show speak for itself, they didn’t want to distract from the cast, Darcy was still busy with schoolwork since she had entered her doctoral program, even if Jane had graduated with her MA before opening night.

 

But then 60 Minutes wanted to do an interview with them. Barbara Walters, THE Barbara Walters, wanted to interview them.

 

“I can’t say no to Barbara Walters, Jane. Like, I am constitutionally incapable of denying that woman anything.”

“Same, Darce. Same.”

  

***

 

Steve was somewhere in Iowa, in the midst of his post-Battle of New York road trip across the country, when he first heard about it.

 

 _“Stars and Stripes,”_ the overly polished morning show host pronounced, _“is the new Broadway hit written by newcomers Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster that tells the true story of American hero, Steve Rogers.”_

Steve stuck his head around the doorframe of the bathroom in the ratty motel he had stopped in for the night and squinted at the TV, still brushing his teeth.

_“The cast of the new hit show is here this morning to give us a preview...”_

The second he saw a replica of his old USO costume flash on the screen, Steve turned off the TV with a grimace and went back into the bathroom.

He wanted to be in Utah by nightfall. He didn't have time to get sucked into his past.

 

***

 

 **The OfficialDarcy** it’s Jane’s birthday!! She doesn’t have Twitter but if you tag me I will read all your bday wishes to her over celebratory pizza whether she likes it or not

 **TheOfficialDarcy** Jane has asked me to remind you that in lieu of gifts she would like you to donate to a local arts organization! Keep your corner of the world thriving and beautiful!

 **FantaOfLife** **@TheOfficialDarcy** how old is Jane?

 **TheOfficialDarcy @FantaOfLife** younger than Steve Rogers but old enough to know better, as I always like to say

 

***

 

The next time he heard about it, Steve was on his way back to New York, sat in front of a cheeseburger and fries and debating which route to drive in the morning.

The television behind the bar had been tuned to some kind of news program that was drawing to a close.

_“Next week on 60 Minutes, Barbara Walters interviews the two young ladies responsible for Broadway’s newest and most controversial musical. While those in the theater community have responded favorably to the show, others have argued that Lewis and Foster treat Steve Rogers as a secondary character in his own narrative, prioritizing women like Sarah Rogers and Peggy Carter at his expense. For their response, and more from the passionate duo, tune in next week at eight o’clock, seven central.”_

 

And that, Steve had to admit, caught his attention, because Peg and his Ma had certainly been glossed over in the propagandistic biographies SHIELD had provided after he came out of the ice.

So the following week, finally back in New York in the room Stark had promised him, Steve made sure to be in front of his new TV in time to watch the interview. It couldn't hurt to do some recon, he figured. See if maybe somebody had got it right.

 

 

***

 

 

“Ladies, thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”

“We couldn’t really say no,” Darcy said with a small smile.

“We’re big fans,” Jane added.

“Well, the feeling is mutual, I have to say. I’ve seen the show a few times now, and I think it really is spectacular.”

“Slap that on my tombstone: ‘Barbara Walters was a fan, thought Stars and Stripes was spectacular.’ Bam, I can die happy,” Darcy quipped, causing the interviewer to laugh and Jane to look at her indulgently.

 

“How did you two come up with the idea for the show? You wrote it before the Battle of New York, correct?”

The girls nodded and looked at one another, Jane nodding for Darcy to speak up. “I suppose it was kind of my fault, honestly. We were roommates in college, and I was studying history and I started out writing a paper about Peggy Carter and her impact on Project Rebirth. And she was just the _coolest_ chick. Seriously, I could have studied Peggy Carter forever. But then I was taking a seminar that was more focused on family dynamics, so I wrote a paper about Sarah Rogers. And although she doesn’t get a lot of attention in the big Captain America biographies, her journals are actually still in the National Archives, so I read those. And she was a wonderful writer--which amazed me, because she had so much on her plate--but she wrote every single day. And her journals are just full of this optimism and love and these really great bits where she’s kind of groaning over Steve’s tendency to get into fights all the time, but there’s still this undercurrent of affection and pride, and just--Sarah Rogers is the mother we all wish we had, but very few of us deserve, frankly. And then I started working on my senior thesis where I was interviewing all the USO girls who had traveled with Captain America, and Jane--” she reached out a hand and laid it on Jane’s shoulder, “ _\--darling_ Jane, proof-read all my papers and listened to all those interviews because she’s a wonderful roommate and she’s very supportive.”

Jane took over the narrative. “Darcy has this way of talking about historical figures as though she actually knows them--they become these really vibrant, multi-dimensional personalities. And I remember she came home from an interview one day really frustrated that no one had bothered to tell these women’s stories, in the case of the USO girls, or had diminished their importance, in the case of Sarah Rogers and Peggy Carter. And I thought, why not do that? I mean, I know Darcy’s doing that academically, but I thought, why not try to get their stories out there in a more accessible way? And that’s really how the idea for the show came about. Nobody wanted to put it on until after the Battle of New York, but it was finished months before anyone knew that Steve Rogers was alive. The silver lining in all this was that interest in the Avengers drove up producers' interest in our show, so we could really dictate the terms of the contract to make sure we maintained creative control. It's an atypical arrangement for Broadway, but we've really been involved in the whole process, start to finish.”

 

Walters nodded thoughtfully, before continuing. “There has been some backlash directed at how much of the story is told by other characters, as opposed to Steve Rogers himself, and in particular some critics have argued that the entire show is--and I am actually quoting here--‘a piece of liberal propaganda that seeks to hide its reprehensible feminist sentiments behind the illusion that the show is a biography of Steve Rogers.’”

Jane shrugged. “I really didn’t think we were hiding anything.”

“Yeah,” Darcy laughed. “I thought we were pretty upfront about it, honestly.” She shifted in her chair and became more serious as she continued, “Look, I have consumed every piece of media about Steve Rogers at this point, academic and popular, and I’ve seen and read the story that critic is asking for a million times--and I find it boring, for one, but also incredibly inaccurate. I think that our show is a lot more honest about its source material, because the reality is that we don’t have much from Steve Rogers. He didn’t keep a journal, he kept a sketchbook. He didn’t really give interviews--he still doesn’t, frankly. What we do have are Sarah Rogers’ journals, and interviews with Peggy Carter and Rebecca Barnes, and all those interviews that I did with the girls that he toured with in the USO. Any interviews that were conducted with the Howling Commandos, while still historically valuable, deal a lot more with Captain America as a military figure than they do Steve Rogers. So the women in Steve Rogers' life are the ones who really told his story and as a woman and as an academic, I’m really, really tired of hearing people argue differently.”

Jane nodded. “We also received quite a bit of backlash about the casting in the show. Our USO girls are a lot more visibly diverse than the original USO girls and we made a point of having fully blind auditions for our pit orchestra. But the one casting decision that has really just brought about the most-” Jane broke off and looked at Darcy for a moment. “Help me out here, Darce, I’m trying to keep this family friendly.”

Darcy pressed her lips together for a moment as she gathered her thoughts. “We have received some really despicable tweets lambasting us for casting Antonio as Bucky Barnes, because Antonio is Latino. And when that started blowing up on twitter, Jane and I actually wrote Antonio a letter-”

“It was about five pages long, honestly, because we were so upset,” Jane interrupted.

“Right. We wrote him a letter about why we cast him and why we would cast him as Bucky over and over again. And honestly, that letter could have been one sentence long: Antonio had the best audition for Bucky Barnes. There is no one on that cast who has picked my brain more about their character, to try and really flesh him out as more than a sidekick or the ladies’ man that he often is flattened down into. Antonio is someone who takes his craft seriously, and he respects the fact that this show is about real people, and I cannot imagine anyone playing this part better than he has.”

“Exactly. She’s so good with words,” Jane praised as she gestured towards Darcy.

“And honestly--sorry Janie, I know you were being cute just now, and I’m gonna love on you in a minute, but I need to say this--for all those people who have been arguing against Antonio as Bucky Barnes because it is ‘historically inaccurate': Steve Rogers was full-blooded Irish, and neither of our Steves is Irish. One of them is Russian, actually, he was born in Moscow. But no one has raised a single bit of indignation about that because they’re still white. This is not a conversation about historical accuracy, this is a conversation about racism and privilege. Neither of us is going to sit down and shut up about the fact that the entertainment industry in this country is flawed, and we’re certainly not going to perpetuate those same mistakes when we have a chance to do better. And I honestly think that doing anything less would be an insult to Steve Rogers' legacy, because we're talking about a man who put together a team of the most talented people he could find, regardless of color or nationality or religion, and ended up leading one of the very, very few integrated units during World War II. We hired people according to the same principles, and we currently have the most diverse cast and crew on Broadway, and I genuinely believe that is why the show has been so successful. We hired the best people for the job, full stop.”

“This is why I’ve kept her around all these years,” Jane told Barbara. “How can you not be passionate about what you’re doing when your writing partner is this passionate?”

Darcy scoffed. “She always makes it sound like I was the driving force behind this, which is absolutely not true. The show was her idea. And honestly, Jane has the most brilliant mind and the most generous heart of anyone I have ever met. The music is the soul of this show. Without Jane, without Jane’s music, it’s just a book.”

“It’s still a good book,” Jane defended.

“But it doesn’t stick with you the same way. It's like having the head without the heart. Music taps into this deeper part of you, it connects people at the level of their soul. The music is what really makes it special, it's what brings everything to life.”

 

The camera flashed back to Barbara Walters. “Now I know that Darcy, you’ve met with the USO girls in the course of your research, but have either of you met with anyone else in the show who’s still alive?”

Jane nodded. “We’ve actually had almost all of the living USO girls out to see the show at this point, so I’ve met most of them now. And some of the Howling Commandos’ families have been to see the show. They’ve all been really enthusiastic about it too, which has been so rewarding.”

“Everybody always asks us if we’ve met Steve Rogers or if he’s seen the show,” Darcy added. “As far as I know, he has not been to the show, and I know he’s been keeping a low profile since the Battle of New York, so I don't expect to hear anything from him. But I hope that Steve Rogers, wherever he is, I hope he would be pleased with what we tried to do here. Most of all, I hope he would find it a fitting tribute to his mom and to Bucky.”

“It was the thing that she was most nervous about,” Jane said. “When we wrote this, there was never any chance of Steve Rogers actually seeing it. Darcy is the biggest stickler about everything being accurate, and about being true to who these people actually were, and I think she’s lost a little sleep over the possibility of Steve Rogers sneaking in and finding any kind of error in the show.”

“It’s completely changed the way I write now,” Darcy joked. “I never assume that _anybody_ is going to stay dead anymore. I don’t want Napoleon to come back to life and read how brutally I dragged him for invading Russia in the winter. I’m not a fighter.” Jane started laughing next to her. “I talk a really good game, but I’m not a fighter; I couldn’t take him.”

 

Barbara Walters cleared her throat. “We do actually have a little surprise for the two of you.”

“Oh _God_ , I hope it isn’t Napoleon,” Darcy muttered. Jane bit her lip to keep from laughing.

 

The camera panned over to a doorway at the very moment that Peggy Carter came through it, being pushed in a wheelchair by what must have been a nurse.

The camera panned back to get the girls’ reactions. Jane was smiling warmly, eyes bright.

Darcy had clapped her hand over her mouth in shock and looked seconds away from bursting into tears. “Are you for real?”

“So I’ve been told,” Peggy teased. “Honestly, Bridget, would you please move me closer so we can have an actual conversation? I feel as though I need a megaphone from this distance.” The nurse wheeled Peggy over until she was less than an arm’s length away from Darcy.

Jane waved a shy hello from her seat on the other side of Darcy. “Jane Foster. It’s really an honor to meet you, Director Carter.” Jane glanced sideways at Darcy who was still recovering. “This is Darcy Lewis. You’re kind of her hero, so she might need a second.”

Peggy laughed, clearly charmed by both of them.

Barbara Walters interrupted the moment by saying, “Now I understand that Peggy hasn’t had a chance to see the show yet, and since the production hasn’t been filmed, Jane was kind enough to provide us with a video of Darcy singing Peggy’s final song in the show. I understand this was recorded a few months before you started shopping the show around, correct?”

Jane nodded.

Darcy squeaked. “You knew about this and you didn’t tell me?! And they’re going to play me singing in front of Peggy Carter?! Jane, I know where you sleep.”

Jane nodded again, obviously pleased with herself, even as the video started to play on the television that had been wheeled into the room. The quality wasn’t great, because it had been filmed on a cell phone, but Darcy’s voice was clear and her facial expressions legible enough, even in the soft evening light of the girls' apartment.

When the clip was over, Peggy reached over to take Darcy’s other hand and press a kiss to it before she smiled beatifically at both girls. “Amazing. Brilliant. Really, I’m so impressed with both of you and how articulate you are and the care you’ve taken with all this. And I think Steve would be honored. I know I am.”

Darcy sniffed and tilted her head back, blinking rapidly to try and stem the flow of tears. “I don’t think the makeup people used waterproof anything and if you keep being you I’m going to look a KISS reject on national television.”

“Good heavens, we can’t have that.” Peggy winked conspiratorially at Jane. “Would you like to hear about the time I shot at Steve because I saw him kissing another girl?”

Darcy immediately straightened up and stared at Peggy for a beat before blurting out, “Will you marry me?”

  
“I usually insist on someone buying me dinner before proposing matrimony,” Peggy pronounced, “but I’m sure we can work our way up to it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it might be helpful for you all to see my rough tracklist for the show--it's patchy, narrative wise, but gives you a timeline and titles for songs that might come up again.
> 
> Who is Captain America? -- Sarah Rogers, Peggy Carter, Dr. Erskine, Howard Stark, Bucky Barnes, Rebecca Barnes, USO Girls, Howling Commandos  
> My Darling Boy - Sarah Rogers  
> Brooklyn Scrapper (Get Back Up) - Sarah Rogers, Steve, Bucky  
> Brothers (Til the End of the Line) - Bucky, Steve, Rebecca  
> The 107th (Rejected/Drafted) - Bucky, Steve, Rebecca  
> Making a Soldier/Looking for a Good Man - Peggy, Phillips, Erskine, Howard Stark  
> Welcome to the USO - USO Girls, Steve  
> Star Spangled Man (The Army’s Dancing Monkey) - the USO Girls, Steve
> 
> Intermission
> 
> You Were Meant for More - Peggy Carter (maybe also Steve? Philips? Howard?)  
> What Happened? (I Joined the Army) - Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers  
> The Howling Commandos - Commandos, Bucky, Steve, Peggy  
> The Right Partner - Peggy, Steve  
> The End of the Line - Steve  
> Into the Ice (Final Radio Call) - Steve, Peggy  
> You Were Meant for More (Reprise) - Peggy  
> His Story (Where is Steve Rogers?) - Peggy, Rebecca, USO Girls, Sarah Rogers, Howling Commandos, Howard Stark


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy finally sees Stars and Stripes, Darcy goes on Fallon, and Natasha out-stubborns Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [[ IMO there are some tear-jerking bits in this chapter, so you have been forewarned if you try to read this update in public ]]
> 
> also THANK YOU THANK YOU for all your super lovely comments on the last chapter! I don't think I managed to reply to all of them because there were SO MANY-- seriously y'all are great and I love you <3

**10FtOffBeale** **@TheOfficialDarcy** have you heard anything from Cap re: Stars and Stripes?

 **TheOfficialDarcy** **@10FtOffBeale** Nope! Dude’s busy saving the world and learning how to connect to wifi hot spots! has more important pop culture bits to catch up on!

 **TheOfficialDarcy** **@10FtOffBeale** Star Wars! Beyonce’s entire discography! Harry Potter! Modern art! Game of Thrones! How to properly order beverages at Starbucks! SO MUCH STUFF

 

 **AmandaTweets @TheOfficialDarcy** speaking of, what ASOIAF house would Steve Rogers belong to?

 **TheOfficialDarcy @AmandaTweets** House Tully: Family, Duty, Honor

 **AmandaTweets @TheOfficialDarcy** well chosen! What about you and Jane??

 **TheOfficialDarcy @AmandaTweets** Jane is House Caron (No Song So Sweet), I’m House Jordayne (Let it Be Written)

 

 **TheOfficialDarcy** Y’ALL I got those house mottos from the GoT Wiki plz stop asking me for complicated meta and theories I don’t know GRRM’s plan

 

***

 

Truth be told, Darcy was not entirely proud of her first meeting with Peggy Carter.

She was just so completely flabbergasted and awestruck and _delighted_ , let’s be honest, that much of it passed in a blur.

She was, fortunately, given a chance to redeem herself.

 

Seeing as Peggy had come all the way out to New York from her home in DC for the 60 Minutes interview, the girls were determined that she should see the actual show--the real deal, the whole enchilada. So immediately after the cameras stopped rolling, they offered to treat Peggy to dinner and take her to see the show in their designated box the following evening.

They had also offered to take Peggy’s nurse, of course, but Peggy had laughed them off and explained, “She’s not really a nurse. SHIELD still insists on keeping an agent around for personal security, just in case. Total overkill, if you ask me,” Peggy whispered conspiratorially, “but whenever I try to argue, Nick says he likes me too much to let me die on his watch. So here we are.”

 

So the next evening Darcy and Jane took Peggy to their favorite hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant for dinner while her security detail followed at a discreet and respectful distance.

Peggy asked them about the process behind writing the show, and what each of them was working on now, and both girls hung on the older woman’s every word when she talked about building SHIELD from the ground up and some of the less pleasant experiences she had gone through with Steve’s previous biographers.

“There weren’t _all_ a bunch of humorless poppycocks,” Peggy allowed. “But none of them actually seemed to care all that much for what I had to say. They simply wanted me to confirm what they felt they already knew--which wasn’t much, of course.”

“Idiots,” Darcy grumbled as she stole a bite of Jane’s ravioli.

“Morons,” Peggy agreed as she pilfered one of Darcy’s meatballs and dropped it onto her bread plate.

Jane glanced between the two of them, amused, and asked, “Are we absolutely certain you two aren’t related?”

 

  
***

 

Darcy was on tenterhooks for the entirety of the show that night, fidgeting in her seat between Peggy and Jane, more nervous than she had been since opening night.

What if Peggy hated it? What if Peggy found something wrong with it? What if it didn’t live up to her expectations after all of Darcy’s talk of going to the archives and conducting interviews?

Darcy didn’t even realize she was worrying at the hem of her sweater until Peggy’s delicate fingers, their skin veined and papery with age, settled over her frantic ones. Darcy closed her eyes and took a slow breath, a rueful smile on her face as she gently laid her other hand atop Peggy’s, grateful and centered.

After the show, Peggy had pressed identical crimson lipstick marks into Jane and Darcy’s cheeks and told them they had accomplished something magnificent and she was beyond pleased with not only the show, but with what generous and thoughtful ambassadors they were for everyone who had played a part in Steve’s story.

“I’ve got a few old things down at the house that you might like to take a look at, Darcy. You can pop down whenever you like, just give me a ring, and you can stay in one of the kids’ old rooms.” Peggy’s smile suddenly turned sly. “I’ll break out the good bottle of gin and we’ll have a marvelous time, I’m sure. Jane’s welcome too, of course, although I think she’d be less impressed with my little notebooks."

“Absolutely,” Darcy murmured, a huge grin on her face. “Although I have to warn you, I might just move in and never leave.”

Peggy shook her head fondly and shared a knowing look with Jane. “Not that I would object to keeping you, but I daresay you’d be back in New York soon enough. It suits you too well.”

 

***

 

 **CaseySings** **@TheOfficialDarcy** have you kept in touch w Peggy since 60 Minutes???

 **TheOfficialDarcy @CaseySings** Of course! We’re now planning our elopement to France for the fall! She's the love of my life  <3

 

 **Steggy4Life** **@TheOfficialDarcy** how does Steve feel about you stealing his best girl? ;)

 **TheOfficialDarcy** **@Steggy4Life** Steve Rogers has always believed in a woman’s right to choose…

 **TheOfficialDarcy @Steggy4Life**...her weapon. We’re having a duel.

 **TheOfficialDarcy @Steggy4Life** I’ve chosen muskets at dawn. It’s been nice knowing you all. Take care of Jane for me.

 

***

 

Now that Steve was back in New York and not on the road, he realized that Stars and Stripes was a far bigger phenomenon than he had assumed.

In fact, it was completely inescapable. There were ads on yellow cabs and on the sides of city buses. There were people wearing shirts from the show wandering around the city. The talking heads on TV charted every wave of controversy about the show on Twitter and invited experts to come in and argue over the finer historical points of the narrative. Steve noticed that Darcy Lewis never attended those, and indeed no woman was ever on the panel. After the third such segment, he began to wonder if she had even been invited.

 

Natasha, apparently, was a big fan of Stars and Stripes, or at least of Darcy Lewis.

Steve knew this because she kept texting him screenshots of Darcy Lewis’s twitter account along with her own personal commentary, including: _Good luck with your duel in the morning. FYI muskets are notoriously unreliable and impossible to aim. She’s a smart one._

Or _have you started harry potter yet? I can always steal Clint's set if you need me to_ ;)

Or she would update him on Darcy and Jane’s interview schedule: _the 60 minutes interview is re-airing on Tuesday night. D + J also scheduled for Fallon on Thursday_

 

When Steve asked why she was bothering to update him on their television appearances, considering he had never met the women or seen their show, she had rolled her eyes at him, muttered something incomprehensible but undoubtedly unflattering in Russian, and left the room to head to the firing range with Clint.

 

***

 

 **TheOfficialDarcy** The cast recording of **@StarsNStripes** is officially out! Buy it on iTunes, stream it on Spotify, cry over **@MarciaMarciaMarcia** and **@AntonioOnBroadway** 's angelic tones wherever you please

 **TheOfficialDarcy** maybe avoid the real tear-jerkers on the subway and whatnot. not that I would ever tell you how to live your life...

 **TheOfficialDarcy** ...but it could cause you to miss your stop while on an express train, resulting in a nice long trip out to the Bronx. Not that I know this from personal experience or anything.

 

***

 

After their 60 Minutes interview, Darcy and Jane were somehow in even higher demand with the other talk shows.

Which was how Darcy ended up sitting on a couch on the set of Late Night next to Jimmy Fallon in yet another rented cocktail dress, nearly blinded by stage lights and humming with adrenaline.

 

“Darcy, thanks so much for coming out tonight, I know your schedule is pretty crazy,” Jimmy said as he took his seat.

“Thank you,” Darcy said. “And Jane’s really sorry she couldn’t make it, but she’s actually playing in the pit tonight. Our flautist came down with a bad case of food poisoning last minute, so Jane’s filling in.” Darcy explained.

“That’s crazy!” Jimmy exclaimed. “I didn’t know she played the flute.”

“And the piano, and the viola, and the guitar. Janie’s a beast.”

“And you two met in college, right?”

“Yeah, we were randomly assigned to be roommates our freshman year, and we have been living in one another’s pockets for going on seven years at this point.”

“You still live together?” Jimmy clarified.

“Have you seen the rent prices in this city?” Darcy joked. “We live in a minuscule fifth-floor walk-up and we have to share a desk.”

Jimmy nodded. “The typical first New York apartment. The worst is always carrying your groceries up all the stairs.”

“Honestly, every time I start to complain about that I tell myself, ‘If pre-serum Steve Rogers could carry his groceries up to his fourth-floor walk-up with asthma and scoliosis, I can do this.’”

“WWSRD,” Fallon quipped.

“What would Steve Rogers do.” Darcy shrugged. “There are worse codes to live by.”

“I thought you would be all for it! You’ve got to be a big fan.”

“Look, even when he was ninety pounds soaking wet and shorter than _me_ , Steve Rogers was a feisty, scrappy little guy who would fight literally anyone--this is a guy who would take on The Rock without a second's hesitation. And I respect him for that, but I don’t have that kind of energy.” The audience laughed. “Like, I just imagine he and Bucky wandering around Brooklyn and some jerk catcalls a girl and Steve just,” Darcy shook her head and mimed pushing up her sleeves, “‘I gotta fight him’ and Bucky just looking into the camera like he’s on The Office, you know? Like, ‘Steve, can we please have _one afternoon_ where you don’t start a fight? I just wanted to see The Wizard of Oz.’”

“As everyone knows, Steve Rogers is part of the Avengers now. So I have to ask: is Captain America your favorite Avenger?”

Darcy winced and scrunched up her nose before conspiratorially whispering to the audience, “Actually Bruce Banner is my favorite.”

“Blasphemy!” Jimmy teased. “Tell me why.”

“He’s a brilliant scientist and he’s a great humanitarian, although he doesn’t get a whole lot of attention for it. He’s done a lot of work with charities that seek to improve prenatal care for women and access to clean water in developing countries.” Darcy shrugged and gave a sly smile. “Also he’s incredibly relatable, because I too tend to smash things when I get angry.”

Jimmy laughed along with the audience before leaning forward intently. “Okay so now we’re going to play a game--well it’s kind of a game--where I name an Avenger and you choose the one question you would ask them if you only got one question. Okay?”

Darcy nodded. “Got it.”

“We’ll start with The Hulk--or Bruce Banner--since he’s your favorite.”

“Dr. Banner, what is on your meditation playlist?” The crowd laughed. “It’s gotta be a good one. I trust him to have solid taste in music.”

“Okay, now the Black Widow…” Jimmy prompted.

“What is the worst thing a man has ever said to you and what did you do to him afterwards?”

“That is kind of a two part question, but I’ll allow it because it’s a good one.”

“Thanks, Jimmy, you’re very generous.”

“Um, how about Tony Stark?”

“Please, can I have Pepper Potts’ phone number?”

“ _Nice_. A question for Hawkeye?”

“Are you secretly the guy who slayed me at darts last week at Josie’s Bar?”

“You wish.”

Darcy nodded. “I do. I would feel a lot better about losing that badly if it was to Hawkeye.”

“Question for Thor?”

“What hair products do you use and can I buy them on Earth?”

“He _does_ have good hair,” Jimmy acknowledged. “And last but not least, question for Steve Rogers?”

“Has anyone introduced you to Quaker Instant Oats in Maple and Brown Sugar flavor?”

Jimmy immediately started laughing. “What? That’s what you’re going with?”

“His favorite breakfast was oatmeal and his mom used to put brown sugar or maple syrup in as a treat! I’m just trying to make sure dude knows his options. Superheroes need a nutritious breakfast too!”

 

***

 

Steve was still gaping at the television when Natasha’s voice suddenly came out of nowhere. “Oh good. Now I don’t have to ask if you’ve seen it yet.”

Steve whipped his head around to stare at Natasha, who was suddenly standing behind his couch. “How did you even get in here?”

She waved away his question, body language utterly nonchalant. “Unimportant.”

She walked over to sit next to him on the couch and inclined her head towards the TV, where Steve had been watching a recorded episode of Jimmy Fallon.

 

The one with Darcy Lewis.

The one he had asked JARVIS to record for him as he had run out the door the day before to save Kansas City from the villain of the week.

The one where Darcy Lewis revealed that she knew his favorite breakfast food and loved Bruce Banner for his humanitarian endeavors and could name his favorite causes without a moment’s pause and had actually managed to quote Bucky nearly verbatim in her hypothetical scenario.

 

“She’s very charming,” Natasha said, one knowing eyebrow arched.

“Yes,” Steve sighed. He still wasn’t entirely sure what that meant for _him_.

“I got something for you.”

Natasha extended her arm to dramatically drop a travel-pack of tissues in his lap.

“Wow, Nat, you shouldn’t have.”

“I also downloaded the cast recording of Stars and Stripes to your tablet for you to listen to.” She sighed in the way that told Steve she felt he was being particularly stubborn and she was tired of it. “I understand your hesitation. But I think it will pleasantly surprise you. She’s not just charming, she’s thorough. She did her research. And Foster is very talented.”

Steve stared at her for a moment, taking in her quiet conviction, thinking on all those screen-shotted tweets she had sent him….“You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

She shrugged. “Of course. I go to all the shows.” She pointed to the pack of Kleenex before standing to leave. “You’ll probably need those. And make sure you have extras on hand.”

And with that she disappeared as noiselessly as she had arrived, leaving Steve glancing between the paused image of Darcy Lewis on the television and his tablet where it sat on the coffee table.

 

***

 

 **TheOfficialDarcy** apparently my dress on Fallon was too revealing for some of you. Please dial 1-800-DID-I-ASK for more on why you cannot dictate a woman’s clothing choices

 **SwiftAsACoursingRiver** **@TheOfficialDarcy** how should I respond when someone says #NotAllMen ?? driving me crazy!

 **TheOfficialDarcy @SwiftAsACoursingRiver** “You’re right. Steve Rogers would never. But given that he is a 94 yr old super soldier, he is an outlier and should not be counted.” #TooManyMenWould

 

***

 

Finally, despite months of stubbornly putting it off, Steve’s curiosity got the better of him (no doubt just as Natasha intended) after several hours of pretending not to see his tablet where it was sitting accusingly on his coffee table.

What could it possibly hurt to _listen_ to the recording, he thought to himself as he untangled his headphone cords. He could pause or stop it at any time. He could skip anything he didn’t want to finish. No one was around to see how he reacted. At this point, he was running out of excuses, and clearly Natasha was not going to give up until he at least tried.

He really didn’t want to know what methods she might resort to if he persisted in his stubbornness.

 

So he finally pressed play on the entr’acte and sat back to listen to the cast recording of Stars and Stripes.

He made it less than a minute into My Darling Boy before he started crying, because even though he knew his mother had never sung such a song to him, it _sounded_ like her. It sounded like a song she would have sung to him when he was stuck in bed, too sick to go outside, and she wanted him to chin up.

It sounded like home in a way that nothing had since he woke up from the ice.

 

He made his second attempt at getting through the album the next day, already wary of how far he would make it this time but determined to follow through. His mother’s song alone proved that the show was worth a listen, no matter how much it felt like rubbing salt into raw flesh to be reminded of how much he had lost.

 

He only made it as far as The 107th (Rejected/Drafted) before he broke down again, this time in guilt-ridden sobs.

Bucky had never told him that he had been drafted into the army and Steve had always assumed that Bucky enlisted.

Rebecca had known. Rebecca was the one who stood on stage and told the audience that she had spent the night before Bucky shipped out in her big brother’s bed, begging him not to leave, which only served to make both of them cry themselves sick because Bucky had never had a choice.

Had Steve been so determined to get overseas--been so blinded by his own determination to do what he thought was right--that he had missed the fear in Bucky’s eyes and the hesitation in his voice? Had Steve ever thought about what it meant for Bucky’s mom or Rebecca when he shipped out or had Steve been so wrapped up in his own jealousy and conviction that he forgot about them?

Steve lay awake in bed for the rest of the night, heartsore and nauseated, with his mind running in circles.

 

Steve’s third attempt at getting through the cast recording went more smoothly, because he could listen to his own trials at Camp Lehigh and his transformation into Captain America without feeling like he’d been sucker punched in the gut. Truthfully, Welcome to the USO--a jaunty fast-paced number in which the USO girls were clearly trying to polish up the poor performer they had been dealt in Steve in between numerous bouts of good-natured ribbing--even made him smile fondly.

 

Steve made it all the way to The End of the Line before he lost it completely--giant, heaving sobs that made it hard to breathe, all the grief and helplessness he had felt after Bucky’s fall suddenly as fresh and raw as the day Steve lost him, but also tinged with a deeper and more bitter strain of guilt.

Bucky hadn’t chosen to become a soldier, but Steve had made him one, and Bucky had died because of it.

 

He didn’t leave his room for the rest of the day, laid up on his couch under an old afghan with a pile of tissues and a healthy dose of grief and self-pity. When he failed to reply to one of Natasha’s habitual texts she dropped in through the ceiling vents to check on him, Widow’s Bites on and knives in hand.

When she saw his tablet and headphones on the floor and the redness in his eyes and the balled-up tissues that surrounded him, her expression softened and she wordlessly tucked her knives away before heading to the kitchen to make him a cup of tea.

She didn’t say anything as she pressed the warm mug into his hands, simply patted his cheek softly with one impeccably manicured hand before walking out the front door of his apartment to give him some privacy.

 

All in all, it took Steve four sittings to get through the entirety of Stars and Stripes, but Natasha had been right on more than one count.

He had definitely needed extra tissues.

And he was pleasantly surprised.

 

Gutted, but pleasantly surprised.

 

***

 

 **RainOnMyParade @TheOfficialDarcy** Thoughts as to why Black Widow and Hawkeye’s identities haven’t been revealed? Good or bad decision-making from SHIELD?

 **TheOfficialDarcy @RainOnMyParade** Anonymity keeps them safe + allows them to better do their jobs + keep other people safe. Their identities do not belong to us. They do not owe us any more of themselves than they are willing to give

 **TheOfficialDarcy** several have already had their lives exposed-- I know that I am guilty of doing that for Steve Rogers, even if it was never my intention, and that’s why I have req’d that people not ask him about the show

 **TheOfficialDarcy** would you want to relive some of the most painful moments of your life surrounded by complete strangers who view them as entertainment? Yes/No

 **TheOfficialDarcy** That’s your choice. But no one has the right to demand it of you or ask you for a play-by-play afterwards.

 **TheOfficialDarcy** I have always tried to keep the dignity of these people intact while telling their stories. Please help me do that for Steve now, and let him find his place in the future in peace.

 

 **TheOfficialDarcy** On a happier note: your girl’s fave avenger **@DocBanner** is off doing good in the world with UNICEF! If you have a dime to spare, support his clean drinking water initiative!

 **TheOfficialDarcy** If you don’t have a dime to spare, send him a loving tweet to show your support for all his hard work! #BigGreenPhilanthropicMachine

 

 **AdagioGuy** **@TheOfficialDarcy** why do you use so many exclamation points when you tweet?

 **TheOfficialDarcy** **@AdagioGuy** because like a puppy I am easily excited (!!!!!) and have no chill (!!!!!) and believe in the beauty of enthusiasm (!!!!!)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Natasha and Steve go see Stars and Stripes in disguise, Darcy defends her cast and ends up trending on Twitter, Darcy and Jane get a new apartment, and Antonio loves the Boss Ladies of Stars and Stripes.

**WhoDisIs @PepperPottsSI** Have you seen **@StarsNStripes**?

 **PepperPottsSI @WhoDisIs @StarsNStripes @TheOfficialDarcy** Not yet but hopefully soon! Love the soundtrack!

 **TheOfficialDarcy @PepperPottsSI** Whenever you want to come, CEO of SI and Queen of My Heart, we’ll be thrilled to have you  <3

 **IAmIronMan @TheOfficialDarcy** stop trying to steal my Pepper

 

 **AntonioOnBroadway @TheOfficialDarcyLewis** is charming all the Avengers’ ladies one by one. The girl is 100% Pure Charm (and a lowkey menace to society) and I love her.

 **TheOfficialDarcy @AntonioOnBroadway** what can I say, those Avengers have got good taste! Peggy’s still my #1 girl crush forever and ever tho

 

***

 

This time, it was Steve seeking out Natasha to discuss Stars and Stripes.

 

He had spent the day following his completion of the cast recording thinking about the show, about all the aspects he couldn't experience from the recording alone, and come to a conclusion.

 

“I want to see the show,” he blurted out when he finally found Natasha doing yoga in the gym.

Still in perfectly balanced in tree pose, she nodded. “I figured as much. We have tickets for Thursday night.” She flowed out of the pose and waved a hand towards his face. “Don’t shave until then. Assuming you don’t want to be recognized, anyways.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed. “Thanks.” He chose not to bring up how presumptuous it was for her to have already bought the tickets. It would have been a futile exercise, and anyways, her intentions had been good.

She nodded before continuing, “I’ll take care of the rest of your disguise. And I’ll make sure Pepper doesn’t try to go on the same night. She’ll draw more press and people will be more likely to recognize you.”

“Pepper’s going?”

Natasha sighed in clear disappointment and sank down into lotus pose. “Honestly, haven’t you started checking Twitter yourself? Must I do all your stalking for you?”

“I’m not--I was not stalking her--either of them--” Steve spluttered.

“You’re a terrible liar, Rogers,” Natasha muttered as she closed her eyes. 

  

***

 

Natasha herded Steve into her room in the tower early Thursday afternoon to work on disguising them both for their trip to Broadway.

 

Steve was not allowed to look in the mirror as she worked, first wielding an electric razor, then scissors, then several aerosolized cans that didn't seem to be hairspray, although Steve couldn't imagine what else she would be spraying over his head. Natasha then pulled a small silver ring out of a plastic container on the vanity and dropped it into his palm.

“Put that on.”

Steve stared down at the ring, noting the small gap in the circle, but was no closer to understanding where Natasha thought it was supposed go. “Put it _where_ exactly?”

She was leaning over the vanity, eyes seemingly focused on where her hands were fluttering quickly along the tops of her ears in the mirror. “It’s a fake septum piercing.”

Steve continued to stare at her. She finally straightened, meeting his confused eyes, and sighed. “Watch and learn, Cap.” She extracted a slightly smaller version of the fake piercing from another plastic box and slid it into place in between her nostrils. “Septum piercing. Minus the actual piercing.”

It took Steve a few tries to get it into place, in part due to his initial shock when he turned to face the mirror for the first time. Natasha had shaved one side of his head short, leaving the majority of his hair long and brushed over to one side. All of his hair was suddenly a mixture of bright, rich blue shades, ranging from turquoise to ultramarine.

“Don’t worry,” Natasha muttered as she pulled a choppy white-blonde wig into place over her red hair. “The blue will wash out in the shower after a few shampoos.” Satisfied with her wig placement, she tugged at Steve’s grey t-shirt, snapping the sleeve against his arm. “Take this off. I need to put a few temporary tattoos on your neck before you get dressed in the clothes I got for you.”

Natasha had explained his disguise in a gentle, rasping murmur as she carefully applied a series of temporary tattoos to both sides of his neck. “Too many people assume that the best way to hide is to cover up--baseball caps or beanies and sunglasses. But you can't keep those on inside without drawing attention to yourself. If you really want to distract people, you draw their attention away from your face. People look at you like this and they see the blue hair and the piercing and the tattoos, and they might even remember you tomorrow, but if somebody asked what color your eyes were or the shape of your jaw, they would be clueless.” She peeled off the paper backing of the temporary tattoos, blowing air over the designs to help them dry more quickly. “That and it amuses me to get you out of your pleated khakis and turn you into a punk.”

“Bucky used to call me punk,” Steve murmured as he glanced back at the strange reflection in the mirror. “I take it that means something different nowadays.”

 

***

 

Although Steve had been nervous at first that someone would recognize him as he and Natasha strode down midtown's crowded sidewalks, he had slowly relaxed as the blocks whizzed past and no one even did a double-take. Natasha had been right--most people seemed to take in his hair and the metal-spiked shoulders of his leather jacket and skipped over his face entirely.

 

The theater was buzzing with energy as Natasha and Steve made their way to their seats, but they still managed to make their way through the crowds inside inconspicuously. Some of the older patrons cast disapproving glances at both Steve and Natasha’s outlandish appearances, and some of the younger kids in the audience gaped at Steve’s vibrant hair, but none of them recognized him.

The duo sank into the red-velvet-cushioned seats on the right side of the theater, programs and tickets in hand. Once he was safely seated with no one the wiser as to his identity, Steve leaned over towards Natasha and murmured in relief, “I can’t believe that actually worked.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, made brown by colored contacts and heavily smudged with kohl. “Of course it worked. My plans always work.”

Steve’s ears could pick up the sounds of the strings being tuned in the orchestra pit, and hushed chatter from all around him, and, underneath it all, the soft patter of dance shoes walking around backstage. 

He glanced down at the program in his hand, admiring the simplicity of the graphic on the cover--his pre-serum silhouette filled with concentric rings of red and white around a gold star, superimposed over his current, much larger silhouette in dark blue.

Inside the front cover was a note from the director of the show, Helen Cho. Apparently she had met Jane when she guest-taught a musical theater workshop at NYU not long after Jane had started her graduate studies.

 

 

> _...Jane told me that she and her roommate were working on a musical about Steve Rogers, and I must admit, at the time I was unimpressed. From what I had learned about Captain America in school, he was a picture-perfect example of the Baby Boomers’ understanding of the American Dream, the sort of conservative Patriotic Ideal that I had always found difficult to swallow as a child of immigrants, as a person of color, and as a woman._
> 
> _The first time I met Darcy Lewis, I started to believe that maybe she knew something about Steve Rogers that I didn’t, because I couldn’t imagine the firecracker in front of me devoting years to the stiff persona that I had learned about in school. When I finally saw the libretto in its final form, I realized that Darcy Lewis might know more about the real Steve Rogers than anybody else in this country, and that Jane had managed to make all these characters breathe like the living people they once were._
> 
> _Immediately, I believed in the ability of this show to be revolutionary: to inspire us to be better people, to inspire us to fight for what was right, even in the face of incredible adversity. I never dreamed that I would be lucky enough to get the chance to direct it, let alone its debut in a Broadway theater._
> 
> _It has been an honor and a privilege to bring this show to life on behalf of two dear friends, and I sincerely hope that it inspires a resurgence of the America that Steve Rogers always believed was possible._
> 
> _Be brave, be kind, and always get back up._
> 
> _-HC_

 

***

  

The show itself was vibrant--an outpouring of energy and emotion, a riot of movement and color, tightly composed and precisely executed. Steve could see the evidence of all of Darcy’s research in the moments when Antonio nearly replicated one of Bucky’s behavioral tics, or in the way that Steve could identify the USO girls who were never named in the script by their mannerisms alone. Jane’s music sounded richer live than it had over the cast recording, rife with layered refrains, pulsing like an actual heartbeat, simultaneously nostalgic and modern.

None of that could stop Steve from squirming slightly when he saw himself on stage, a distorted reflection of himself brawling in back-alleys and getting strapped into Erskine and Stark’s contraption.

It certainly didn’t help him to hold back the tears at various points in the show, but Natasha--predictably--had come prepared, and silently shoved tissues into his hands during the moments when he was most likely to need them.

(Steve made the mistake of forgetting not to blow his nose with the fake septum piercing in place only one time.)

 

Steve and Natasha joined in the standing ovation at the end of the show, and Natasha seemed content to let Steve process in silence for the first several blocks of their walk back to the tower, although she had hooked her arm with his as though worried that he might veer into traffic or a bus stop sign while he wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings.

 

Finally, over halfway back to the tower, Natasha finally asked, “So? What’s the final verdict?”

Steve inclined his head and acknowledged, “Objectively, it’s really well done. Subjectively, it’s pretty weird to watch your life story being told through song and dance.”

Natasha shrugged a single shoulder. “At least it is this version of your life, though. At least they did not turn you into something you are not.”

Steve nodded. “It's the first time I’ve ever been proud of something somebody stuck my name on. Never thought I'd be saying that about a musical.”

 

 *** 

 

 **TheOfficialDarcy** it has been brought to my attention that a certain breed of man-child is currently claiming that **@MarciaMarciaMarcia** shouldn’t have been cast as Peggy because she is “too fat”

 **TheOfficialDarcy** and there are so so so many responses to that. so buckle up, kids!

 **TheOfficialDarcy** #1 BE BETTER. Y’all could be out making the world a better place. Picking up litter! Nursing injured animals back to health! Feeding the homeless! Planting trees! ETC

 **TheOfficialDarcy** #2 Being mean on the internet doesn't make you cool/important. It makes you petty. It indicates a lack of human decency and respect. BE BETTER.

 **TheOfficialDarcy** #3 **@MarciaMarciaMarcia** is a powerhouse vocalist who can dance like a dream, gives really good hugs, and is fluent in 2 languages other than English. I wish I was as cool as Marcia.

 **TheOfficialDarcy** #4 No human being on this planet should ever have their skills or talents diminished or dismissed because of their physical appearance.

 **TheOfficialDarcy** Your physical appearance is not what you contribute to society. It is not your currency. Your heart and soul and mind are your currency. 

 **TheOfficialDarcy** You are what you Do. So for the last time: BE BETTER.

 **TheOfficialDarcy** now if y’all will excuse me, I’m gonna go spitefully eat an entire pan of brownies before going out and doing some good in the world

 

 

 **TheOfficialDarcy** Apparently #BeBetter is trending?! Go out and do good, my little ducklings!! Spread love and good vibes!!! Exude positivity!!!

 **TheOfficialDarcy** And remember to be kind to yourselves! Sometimes you need to help yourself before you can help others and that’s okay too. You're still doing good!

 **TheOfficialDarcy** I know sometimes the world is a big scary place and it's hard to just Be in it. But you’re important and loved and it's okay to have bad days!

 **TheOfficialDarcy** forgive yourself for your bad days, love yourself the way you deserve (I promise you deserve it), and remember that the universe is vast and your hiccups are small, and I am proud of you <3

 

***

 

It took a few months worth of paychecks being deposited into their accounts for Jane and Darcy to realize that they could afford to move into a better apartment.

Like, an apartment big enough for two desks, where they didn't have to loft their twin beds one over the other. A building with an elevator. Maybe even a doorman! At least a place with consistently functioning laundry machines. 

But both of them had grown up in lower middle class households that had taught them the importance of rainy-day funds and spending smart, so contrary to tabloid reports about their search for a penthouse apartment in midtown, the girls looked around for a reasonable one bedroom apartment whose monthly rental cost didn't make them want to move into a grotto in Central Park and become bridge trolls.

 

They eventually settled on a place in the Meatpacking District with a fairly open floor plan and brick walls and a functioning elevator. The living space was big enough for them to get a giant dining table to use as a joint desk, so they could convert their old shared desk into a repository for paperwork and books. The Steve Rogers original sketch that Virginia had given Darcy was hung up in the best spot in the apartment overlooking their workspace, along with a Stars and Stripes poster signed by every member of the cast.

  
They still had their old green futon and their small twin beds covered in Target comforters and they put rolling desk chairs at the dining-table-cum-desk for functionality and comfort, so the space was idiosyncratic and _theirs_ but not exactly aesthetically perfect. So when Vanity Fair contacted them in the hopes of doing some kind of “At Home” featurette of their new living space the girls had laughed themselves sick before toasting one another with their wine-filled water glasses and gone back to work.

 

***

 

**Video: “BOSS LADIES BACKSTAGE!!”**

**User: AntonioOnBroadway**

 

[ _Antonio’s face appears on the screen. He is clearly holding up his own phone to film, somewhere backstage in the theater_. ]

A: "Some of you have asked whether or not Darcy and Jane are around much, or if they stopped coming to the theater after the show opened. And I can tell you that they’re almost always here on Sundays between the matinee and the evening show because that’s when we have family dinner. Now, dinner ended twenty-five minutes ago but the show doesn't start for...oh, wait-"

[ _The phone jerks and bobs suddenly, refocusing on a short Asian woman carrying around a clipboard, her long hair held up by a pencil._ ]

A: "And here in her natural habitat, we have our amazingly talented director, Helen Cho."

[  _Helen looks up, eyes catching on Antonio’s phone._ ]

H: "Am I going to be on instagram or something?"

A: "Absolutely."

[ _Helen sighs, fond but exasperated._ ]

H: "There is a reason I chose behind-the-scenes work, Antonio."

[ _Antonio turns the phone back to his own face, a mischievous grin dominating his features._ ]

A: "I love her. Anyways, back to the Darcy and Jane question."

[ _The phone swivels, centering on a dimly-lit corner of the backstage area. Darcy and Jane are both seated on the floor next to each other, laptops in their respective laps, clearly engrossed in work. Jane is wearing bulky headphones and bobbing her head in time to an unheard beat. Darcy is chewing her lower lip and glancing back and forth between a notebook and her laptop screen, frowning_. ]

[ _Antonio’s voice, hushed, can be heard as he zooms in on the two women._ ]

A: "My little busy bees! Aren’t they adorable?"

[ _Darcy catches sight of him and waves, grinning. When she notices the camera she nudges Jane, who glances up and squints at Antonio, then past him, before laughing at something off-screen as the camera wobbles and the video cuts off._ ]

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Credit must given to Amerna for the truly excellent idea of Helen Cho as the director for Stars and Stripes
> 
> ** [a new photoset for this chapter](https://pepperpottsblogs.tumblr.com/post/147504698555/stars-and-stripes-an-american-musical-chapter-4)
> 
> ***[a new aesthetic photoset for Darcy and Jane in this 'verse](http://pepperpottsblogs.tumblr.com/post/147254676445/darcy-jane-in-stars-and-stripes-an-american)
> 
> ****the amazingly lovely reverse-arts on tumblr made fan art of punk!Steve from this chapter, which you can find [here!](https://pepperpottsblogs.tumblr.com/post/147766957905/reverse-arts-a-blue-haired-punk-captain)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy hosts an AMA on twitter and takes a trip to DC to visit Peggy.
> 
> AKA your favorite sassy brunettes are reunited!

**TheOfficialDarcy** hey kids! I’m stuck waiting for a delayed train so ask me questions! I’ll answer them on my fossil of a phone in between desperate gulps of coffee (it’s early here)

 

 **IronThrone154 @TheOfficialDarcy** where are you headed?

 **TheOfficialDarcy @IronThrone154** Meeting Peggy at our fave B &B for a romantic weekend away! Champagne, strawberries, plotting to take over the world...the usual

 

 **IfYouSeekFalafel @TheOfficialDarcy** were you in New York during the Battle?

 **TheOfficialDarcy @IfYouSeekFalafel** Yes

 **IfYouSeekFalafel @TheOfficialDarcy** Did you see any of the Avengers?

 **TheOfficialDarcy @IfYouSeekFalafel** Nah, dude, I was hiding in my building’s laundry room w Jane. Saw a lot of dirty socks. Heard a lot of loud booms. Met my neighbors. Wished I had brought a snack.

  


**IAmThereforeITweet @TheOfficialDarcy** If Steve Rogers hadn’t become Captain America, what do you think he would have become career-wise?

 **TheOfficialDarcy @IAmThereforeITweet** An artist! He attended an arts school, kept amazing sketchbooks. Maybe he could have been an animator for Disney! Been in MOMA!

 

 **Sk1nnySt3ve @TheOfficialDarcy** was there anything/one you left out of **@StarsNStripes** that you wished you could have added in?

 **TheOfficialDarcy @Sk1nnySt3ve** WINNY BARNES. No question. Didn’t have enough material to flesh her out satisfactorily. Couldn’t bear not to do her justice. Still bummed about it.

  


**BinaryBen @TheOfficialDarcy** Skinny!Steve or Serum!Steve?

 **TheOfficialDarcy @BinaryBen** He’s the same dude, just in a different package. The heart of gold and artistic talent are constant. No need to choose.

 **TheOfficialDarcy @BinaryBen** I mean I first fell in love w Skinny Steve. My small scrappy hero fighting small injustices all over Brooklyn! Now everything is just bigger--Steve and his battles. Still seems like a great guy.

 **TheOfficialDarcy @BinaryBen** it IS nice to know he isn’t gonna get taken out by a stray flu virus tho

  


**JeNeRegrette @TheOfficialDarcy** Song recommendations for Steve Rogers?

 **TheOfficialDarcy @JeNeRegrette** I Thought The Future Would Be Cooler by YACHT, South by Hippo Campus, Keep Your Heart Young by Brandi Carlile

 

 **TequilaMockingbird @TheOfficialDarcy** advice for young writers?

 **TheOfficialDarcy @TequilaMockingbird** “write drunk, edit sober” is not a valid method.

 **TheOfficialDarcy @TequilaMockingbird** Write a lil something everyday. Doesn’t have to be a big something. Doesn’t need to be perfect. Probably won’t be. Write anyway. Keep cracking.

 **TheOfficialDarcy @TequilaMockingbird** Aim for truth, not perfection. Truth is harder to swallow, more honest, more real, and more attainable.

 

 **IAmIronMan @TheOfficialDarcy** What are your thoughts on Cap’s suit? Too tight? Too comic book? Yay or Nay on the Helmet A?

 **TheOfficialDarcy @IAmIronMan** The wings on his helmet are charming, but it could be a little more subtle with the color scheme. Still more subtle than yours tho.

 **IAmIronMan @TheOfficialDarcy** you wound me

 

 **FeMale @TheOfficialDarcy** have you met **@IAmIronMan**?????

 **TheOfficialDarcy @FeMale** nahhh **@IAmIronMan** just stalks me on twitter sometimes to make sure I haven’t finally stolen **@PepperPottsSI** away from him

 **IAmIronMan @FeMale @PepperPottsSI @TheOfficialDarcy** it’s a valid concern

 

 **MySquishy @TheOfficialDarcy** how do you feel about pineapple on pizza?

 **TheOfficialDarcy @MySquishy** PRO PINEAPPLE (always pro pizza!)

 

 **ItsyBitsyNat @TheOfficialDarcy** What is your favorite musical inspired by historical events? other than **@StarsNStripes** , of course :)

 **TheOfficialDarcy @ItsyBitsyNat** Probably Evita ?? It was one of the first shows Jane introduced me to, so it stuck with me. But Les Mis! ICONIC

  


**ElGrandeAvocado @TheOfficialDarcy** Go-to karaoke song?

 **TheOfficialDarcy @ElGrandeAvocado** UPTOWN FUNK (you up)

 

 **HereInTheSSR @TheOfficialDarcy** was there ever a chance of you playing Peggy in **@StarsNStripes**? loved the clip they played on 60 Minutes

 **TheOfficialDarcy @HereInTheSSR** NEVER. I can’t dance. My voice isn’t strong enough to handle the schedule the cast works. **@MarciaMarciaMarcia** is the best Peggy we could have asked for, and the Real Peggy agreed

 **MarciaMarciaMarcia @TheOfficialDarcy** <3 <3 <3 I couldn't ask for a better inspiration or a better writer. Peggy is truly a dream role!

 

 **BowsAndButtons @TheOfficialDarcy** Things you and Steve Rogers have in common?

 **TheOfficialDarcy @BowsAndButtons** Can’t dance. Think cat-calling is disrespectful. Love Peggy Carter. Look wonderful in blue. Would like Hawkeye to stop falling off of buildings, probably.

 **ItsyBitsyNat @TheOfficialDarcy** Definitely.

 

***

 

Darcy adjusted the strap of her messenger bag where it was digging into her shoulder and double-checked the address on her phone against the brass numbers on the brick facade. Once she was certain she had the right house, she grasped the door knocker and rapped on the door.

An older gentleman in a nondescript black suit answered the door, casting a quick, appraising glance over Darcy’s face before nodding and stepping back to let her in. “Welcome, Miss Lewis. Director Carter is waiting for you in the conservatory, if you’ll just follow me. You can leave your overnight bag here.”

“Thanks,” Darcy muttered she dropped her bag next to a plant stand that was dwarfed by the massive fern on top of it. She followed the suit down the hall, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. “I take it you’re Peggy’s SHIELD-issued security detail?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Darcy fought to keep the smirk off her face as she asked, “She always make you wear a suit and answer the door like the world’s most dour butler?”

“Actually, Director Carter finds the suits to be overkill,” the nameless agent informed her. “Rumor has it that she informed the current director that if he was going to insist on dressing us like butlers, she was going to treat us like them as well.”

Darcy chuckled and nodded. “Sounds about right to me.”

 

The agent waved her through a door and into an airy room with nearly wall-to-wall windows, filled with plants. “She’s right through here, miss. I’ll go ahead and take your bag upstairs for you.”

Darcy murmured her thanks as she walked into the room, glancing around at all the greenery but not catching a glimpse of Peggy. She sighed and called out a resonant, “Marco?”

She could hear Peggy’s tinkling laugh off and to the left, along with her distinctly amused, “Polo!” and so started walking in that direction.

Peggy, it turned out, was comfortably ensconced in a cozy looking floral armchair in front of a coffee table laden with cookies and a tea set, well-hidden by a trio of lemon trees.

Peggy reached out to grab Darcy’s hand and tug her down to buss a kiss to each of her cheeks. “Hello, darling. How was the trip?”

“Perfectly lovely,” Darcy sighed as she sank into the chair next to Peggy’s. “My train was a little late leaving New York, but I love taking the train.” She snagged a cookie from the plate closest to her and took a generous bite. “I get so much done on the train. Plus there’s that whole romantic notion of train rides, and anonymity, and seeing all of America in motion through a window.” Darcy smiled at Peggy and continued, “Plus I am reunited with my favorite lady, bar Jane. It’s a good day.”

“And how is Jane?”

“She’s got this super cool television miniseries that she’s been hired to write the score for, so she’s been totally out of it this week trying to get it all out of her brain. But according to Jane, she should be finished by tonight and then she’ll crash for the rest of the weekend.” Darcy cast a knowing look at Peggy. “I’ve set alarms on her phone for mealtimes and bedtime, just in case. She has a tendency to lose track of time when she’s on a roll.”

Peggy laughed and handed Darcy a cup of tea. “You two take turns pulling one another out of your productive fugue states, I take it?”

Darcy nodded. “We’re a good pair. It’s nice to be around someone who understands that level of focus but also knows when it’s time to pull you out and shove a sandwich into your hand.”

Peggy leaned forward to set her own cup of tea down on its saucer and pursed her lips. “I must admit, I didn’t just ask you down here to flip through a few photo albums and drink Pimm’s, although that’s certainly part of the plan.”

Darcy acknowledged Peggy’s shift in tone with a nod, putting down her cup and cookie and brusquely brushing crumbs off her skirt. “Shoot.”

“I have something of a business proposition for you--one that I think you’ll like, but which you are free to decline without any hard feelings whatsoever.” Peggy paused, waiting for Darcy to nod her understanding before continuing, “I’d like you to write my biography.”

Darcy stilled, her mind racing. “Peggy, it’s not that I don't appreciate your faith in me, but I could easily give you the names of a few more established--”

“No,” Peggy said, decisive and firm. “I saw what the established academics and writers did to Steve. And for a long time I was resigned to the fact that history would only remember me as a one-dimensional caricature--the girl who fell in love with Captain America or the ball-buster who founded SHIELD. You’ve shown that it’s possible to do better. I believe in your ability to do better.”

“Peggy, what you’re volunteering for--in order to do it well, I’d be digging through your whole life, private and public. That kind of access... You barely know me.”

Peggy took her hand and smiled. “I had decided to ask you by the end of the 60 Minutes interview. You already came very highly recommended.”

Darcy blinked in confusion for a moment before it finally clicked. “You kept in touch with the USO girls.”

“They let me know that you were making the rounds--wanted me to know your name in case you ever contacted me for an interview. They said you had been courteous, and knowledgeable, and you always talked about Steve like he was a real person, but you never acted like his story was more important than theirs.” She patted Darcy’s hand fondly. “I can't imagine anyone else I would trust more to do this respectfully and conscientiously. And eloquently.”

Darcy sniffed and used her free hand to wipe at the tear tracks on her cheeks. “God, why do I _always_ cry in front of you?”

Peggy laughed and handed her a napkin. “Not to worry, darling. I’ve been told I can have that effect on people.”  


 

***

 

Darcy was flipping through one of Peggy’s old photo albums, perched on the arm of Peggy's chair and listening to her spirited narration as she identified siblings and childhood friends. Eventually they came across a picture of Peggy with Steve in their SSR uniforms, likely taken not long after he had been given the serum, clearly still uncomfortable in his own bulk.

“Have you seen him since he woke up?” Darcy asked absently as she turned to the next page.

“Oh, yes,” Peggy answered. “He went on a road trip of sorts after the Battle of New York. Took his bike and puttered about, stopped by here not long after he left New York and then again on his way back. He calls me up pretty regularly to chat over the phone, now.”

“That’s nice.” Darcy wasn’t really sure what more to say, or even why she had felt the need to ask the question in the first place, aside from a total lack of comprehension of personal boundaries.

“Aren’t you going to ask if he’s said anything about the show?” Peggy was clearly enjoying herself, eyes bright and lips quirked.

Darcy sighed. “First of all, I was pretty adamant that other people should stop asking him about it, so it would seem kind of hypocritical. But also, if I’m being completely honest, I’m not so sure I want to know.” She slumped back against the old wingback chair and lolled her head to one side to look at Peggy. “It’s a strange thing, to feel like you know someone so well when you’ve never actually met them. I imagine it’s even stranger to come to terms with your life being public knowledge, available for consumption. I feel like I owe it to him to let him have what little privacy he can muster for himself, you know?”

Peggy pursed her lips and examined Darcy for a moment. “You’ve really developed quite a complex over this thing haven’t you?”

“I’ve thought about it a lot, and I wouldn’t take the show back. I wouldn’t undo it, even knowing he was alive, because I still think it was an important story to tell and to get right. But I imagine that Steve has had a pretty rough go of things since he woke up, and I hate to think that the show might have made things worse for him in any way.”

“It hasn’t.” Peggy prodded at Darcy’s foot with her cane, a fond reprimand. “You gave him back his dignity. Reminded people that he is a man and not just a shield. Gave him a way to remember the people that he lost. Those are the kinds of gifts that a person can rarely _ask_ for, Darcy, but it means the world to be given them. I’m asking, of course, because I know you won’t deny me anything.”

“True,” Darcy acknowledged. “Try not to abuse the power.”

  


***

  


**BREAKING NEWS: Darcy Lewis Takes Leave of Absence from PhD Program! Did Sexist Faculty Push her Out?**

 

**BREAKING NEWS: Stars and Stripes Writer Leaves Grad Program! Could the Pop-Culture Phenom Not Handle the Heat?**

 

**BREAKING NEWS: Darcy Lewis’ Education at NYU on Hold! Is She on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown?**

 

 **TheOfficialDarcy** lord have mercy nobody checks their facts

 **TheOfficialDarcy** Hear ye, Hear ye! I am taking a temporary leave of absence from NYU. Everything is totally fine, but I was offered an AMAZING (top secret) opportunity that I could not pass up.

 **TheOfficialDarcy** This new project deserves my full attention. So do my graduate studies. But the Top Secret Thing is more time sensitive, so I made a choice to put my studies on hold and give my all to The Thing.

 **TheOfficialDarcy** Faculty at NYU have all been very supportive and accommodating. And my nerves are fine, even as my patience wears thin...looking at you MSNBC

 **TheOfficialDarcy** Fact-Checking! It’s Not Just for Academics

 **TheOfficialDarcy** also am I the only one picturing me as Mrs. Bennett and Jane as Mr. Bennett in an upcoming P &P adaptation with that headline?? Somebody fetch the smelling salts!

 **AntonioOnBroadway @TheOfficialDarcy** does that make me and **@MarciaMarciaMarcia** your children?? I call Kitty.

 **MarciaMarciaMarcia @TheOfficialDarcy @AntonioOnBroadway** I call Jane!

 **TheOfficialDarcy @AntonioOnBroadway @MarciaMarciaMarcia** Excellent casting choices! Bravo!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ICYMI, the darling reverse-arts on tumblr made a sketch of punk!Steve from the last chapter, which you can see [here!](https://pepperpottsblogs.tumblr.com/post/147766957905/reverse-arts-a-blue-haired-punk-captain-america)
> 
> and there is a photoset for this chapter [here](https://pepperpottsblogs.tumblr.com/post/147808876580) on tumblr!
> 
> Have a lovely weekend! <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy finds more than she bargained for when doing research for Peggy’s biography at SHIELD’s archives.

Darcy stopped just inside the entryway to SHIELD’s DC headquarters, taking in the cold utilitarian stone over everything, and the elevator banks that clearly required keycards for access, and the heavily armed dudes behind the reception desk. Off to her left was a wall of names, a memorial to agents lost in the line of duty.

Darcy made her way over, since she was over twenty minutes early for her appointment in the archives, and walked along the wall, eyes trailing over names. Memorials were interesting to her--probably a professional hazard for historians--monuments attempting to capture the spirits of the dead, to preserve their memory, to serve as reminders for the living of their own good fortune and mortality. She stopped short in the Bs, running her finger over the incised letters spelling out James Buchanan “Bucky”  Barnes’s name, the gears in her mind turning. SHIELD hadn’t been founded until years after the war, so for all intents and purposes, Bucky had no place on a memorial wall for fallen agents. Unless, of course, Peggy had done the work to have him posthumously declared one in order to give him his spot on the wall. Darcy had to admit, it sounded like something Peggy would do, especially without Steve around to do it.

Speaking of Steve…

Darcy wandered further down the wall, scanning for the Rs, eyes immediately zeroing in on the blank space where Steve’s plaque must have been before his Lazarus act rendered it false. She pulled out her phone to take quick snapshots of Bucky’s name and Steve’s blank space, and then an overall of the entire wall, just in case.

 

A tap on her shoulder caught her attention, and she whirled around, already prepared for one of the burly security guys behind the desk to ream her out for taking photos, when she registered a diminutive brunette woman and lanky curly-haired guy in lab coats who did not look as though they were gearing up to reprimand her.

They looked in fact, wide-eyed and sheepish.

“Pardon me, but are you Darcy Lewis?” asked the girl in a crisp British accent.

“The one and only,” Darcy admitted.

The lab coats’ smiles grew wider. “We’re big fans of the show, both of us,” she motioned between herself and Lanky Curls.

“Never thought we’d see you here, though,” Curls acknowledged. “Bit surreal, really, to run into you on the way back from lunch. I’m Fitz, by the way,” he rushed out. “This is Simmons.”

"It's nice to meet you both." Darcy hooked a thumb over her shoulder towards the elevator banks. “I’ve got an appointment to do some research in the archives. It’s a bit surreal for me to be here, honestly.”

“I’ve heard it’s really hard to get in there when you’re a civilian! You have to get permission from the director.”

Darcy shrugged one shoulder. “Or a former director.”

Simmons let out a muffled squeal and elbowed Fitz in the side. Darcy smiled at them both and heaved her messenger bag back into a comfortable perch on her shoulder.

“Would you mind terribly if I asked for an autograph?” Simmons asked. “You can say no, of course, especially seeing as I don’t actually have any paper handy,” she shoved her hands into her lab coat’s pockets futilely, pulling out a pen, a hair tie, and several bobby pins and looking at them in dismay.

Darcy waved off her apology with a smile. “Not to worry! I’ve got half the notebook stock from the CVS on M Street in this bag. Besides, it’s the least I can do for two of the people working to keep the world safe.”

“Oh we’re not-” Fitz motioned between the two of them, shaking his head. “-I mean, we work here, but we don’t save people on the daily, or anything. We’re scientists.”

“Not many people know this, but Jane’s dad is a mechanic,” Darcy said as she rummaged through her bag for a notebook and a pen. “And when I first met him, I asked what it was that he liked about cars. And Mr. Foster explained that in a car, every single component was essential: if any little piece stopped doing its job, then this huge machine stopped working correctly. Said that it taught him to value even the things that seemed insignificant.” She smiled at them. “Don’t sell yourselves short. What you do is important, and I thank you for going into public service when your intellect could have no doubt earned you more money in the private sector. Now, do you want one autograph to share or one for each of you?”

Darcy went through the motions of writing out an autograph for the pair to hang up in their shared lab space, writing out a little personal message to FitzSimmons and drawing a little Cap shield in the corner quickly for decoration.

“It’s been really lovely meeting you both, but I’m afraid I should probably check in with security and head downstairs.” She held out a hand to each of them and accepted their well-wishes for her research with a smile.

 

 

She presented her two forms of government ID to the security desk in order to obtain her temporary guest pass to get down to the archives, a mere eight levels below ground. The entrance to the archives' reading room was at the end of a long narrow hallway lined with doors marked “restricted access” which Darcy power-walked down as quickly as she could. This level of security made her nervous--constantly paranoid that she was breaking some unspoken rule and about to be tossed out at any moment by burly people in combat boots.

She used her keycard to swipe into the reading room and proceeded to the desk directly in front of the door, which was staffed by a young woman staring intently at a battered old laptop screen. Darcy walked up the desk and set her badge on the edge, prompting the girl to look up.

“Hi there, welcome to the SHIELD Archives. My name is Daisy and I’ll be your guide to all things confidential this afternoon. How can I help you?”

Darcy smiled at her, amused by her antics, and tapped the badge. “I’m Darcy Lewis. I had an appointment to go over a few files today. I’ll be back again tomorrow as well, if you’re the one who normally works on Wednesdays.”

Daisy nodded and started to reach for the sign-in log before she suddenly froze, her eyes suddenly going deer-in-headlights wide. “You’re here for the Bucky Barnes file, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Darcy drawled. “Among other things. Is there a problem?”

Daisy darted her eyes from side to side and beckoned for Darcy to lean closer so that she could whisper, “The Captain came in and asked to see it. And it’s not like I could say no, you know? I have a heart. So he’s off back there someplace with the file. _Please_ don’t make me go ask him for it.”

The Captain? Why did this girl think that Darcy would have any idea…

 

Oh.

 

_Ohh._

 

 _That_ Captain.

 

Darcy waved off Daisy’s concern. “Don’t worry about it; I would have done the same. How about I just start with the Peggy Carter and Howard Stark files today, and I’ll save that one for tomorrow.”

“Ohmygod thank you,” Daisy exhaled in relief.

“It’s really no trouble,” Darcy reiterated as she signed the logbook.

She pulled out her stack of notebooks and pencils and double-checked with Daisy that laptops weren’t allowed in the reading room (“Affirmative! Can’t have you hacking into the intranet and whatnot. Not that you would, of course, I’m not implying that you’re some kind of criminal...moving on.”) before handing her bag over the desk to Daisy for safe-keeping.

“Great! If you want to just grab a seat somewhere back there, I’ll bring the files right out to you,” Daisy chirped as she grabbed the list of file numbers out of her printing tray and headed for the door.

“Great, thank you,” Darcy murmured as she turned her attention towards the reading room.

 

The reading room where Steve Rogers was sat somewhere, reading through his dead best friend’s file.

 

Which was fine.

 

Totally fine. Darcy was _fine_ and _dandy_ and completely and totally ready to _do research_ like the professional she was.

 

She was totally calm and collected and not at all tempted to turn tail and sprint back down the creepy hallway to the elevators and just come back tomorrow.

And if it weren’t for the fact that there was no way Peggy wasn't going to weasel the truth out of her at dinner tonight, there was about a 75% chance that that was what she would be doing at this exact moment.

 

Darcy could just hear her mother’s drawled out “ _buckle up, buttercup”_ as she straightened her spine and adjusted her grip on her supplies and strode past the desk and the reference shelving and into the room beyond.

The Captain, it turned out, was seated at the last table to the left, his back to the entrance, so Darcy could exhale as she made her way unseen to a seat on the other side of the room, making sure she was off-set from the harsh overhead fluorescents to prevent glare on the photographs.

 

A few minutes after Darcy had settled into her seat, Daisy came bustling back in wheeling a cart stacked with several banker’s boxes worth of files, marked “Carter, Margaret E.” and “Stark, Howard A.W.”

Darcy blinked in shock at the sheer volume of information in front of her. “Oh my sweet lord.”

“Yeah,” Daisy said as she eyed the cart. “Turns out they were pretty prolific with their record-keeping in the pre-digital age. Have fun with that!”

 

 

***

 

 

Before the serum, Steve used to wish he was bigger. If he was bigger, he wouldn’t get bullied as much, people wouldn’t underestimate him, he could be more useful, etc.

It wasn’t until Steve had got his wish that he realized there had been advantages to being small.

Like being inconspicuous. Like being able to hide.

 

There was no hiding in the archive’s reading room.

Which is not to say that Steve didn’t try, when he heard the front door open and the newcomer announce “I’m Darcy Lewis” to the flustered girl at the front desk and ask for Peg and Howard’s files.

 

But even his best efforts could only result in him facing away from the door as far to one side of the room as possible, so that Darcy--so that _Miss Lewis--_ would have to actively seek him out if she wanted to speak to him.

He wasn’t sure which possibility terrified him more: that she would ignore him completely, or actually introduce herself to him, thus forcing him to articulate something that wasn’t horrifically embarrassing, like _"I've watched all your television appearances and thank you for recommending the maple and brown sugar oatmeal, it's my favorite now."_

 

He heard the sound of her soft footsteps enter the room and pause, likely taking in his presence before deciding on a spot on the other side of the relatively small room. He heard the quiet clatter of her pencils hitting the table and the soft _schik_ of her tearing out a few pages of paper from a notebook.

 

He heard Daisy come back in wheeling an entire cart full of files and Darcy’s quiet shock before Daisy popped back into the front room.

 

And then there was nothing but the quiet sound of turning pages and the scratch of pencil on paper as they looked at their respective materials in the silent stillness of the reading room.

 

Of course, Steve really should have thought about the fact that he had only one measly file to flip through, mostly out of curiosity and, if he was being honest, a bit of loneliness, whereas Darcy had literal boxes to sort through for some kind of actual academic purpose.

 

So Steve was finished with Bucky’s file, and Darcy was still hard at work behind him, and there was absolutely no way out of the room without acknowledging her. And Steve was no coward--he wasn’t going to just hightail his way out to Daisy at the front desk at top speed because Darcy Lewis was smart and pretty and decent and Peggy thought she hung the moon and Natasha insisted on sending him screenshots of her tweets (including one a week or so back in which Darcy had referred to him as “her small scrappy hero” and thought he could have been good enough to get into MOMA).

 

Steve carefully reassembled the file in front of him, aligning each edge and making sure the photos were secure before standing and turning around.

Darcy had thrown her hair up in a messy knot, with several pencils sticking out at odd angles, and was staring down at the file in front of her, head tilted and face scrunched up in confusion. Steve came to a stuttering stop a few feet from her table and cleared his throat, causing her to startle and stare up at him, blinking.

He held out the file towards her, hesitant. “Miss Lewis, I heard Daisy mention that you were supposed to have this file today, so um…” He set it gently on the edge of the table. “I apologize if I caused any inconvenience.”

She waved him off, smiling broadly. “Not at all, Captain Rogers. Clearly I have more than enough to keep me occupied with Howard’s mission reports,” she joked as she tapped a finger against a dense block of nearly indecipherable handwriting. “Although, you might want to try putting in a formal request for Bucky’s file in a few weeks. That one was sanitized for my civilian eyes, so there might be some stuff missing that you would have access to.”

“I don’t--” Steve shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from flailing. “I wasn’t really looking for anything specific, just…”

“Taking a trip down memory lane?” Darcy murmured sympathetically. “Oh, wait!” She started shuffling through a file to her right, explaining, “I saw a great photo in here that you would probably love…” After another moment she made a triumphant little noise and pulled out a photograph and passed it over to Steve.

Steve looked fondly over the tableau in his hands, of Peggy reprimanding Howard while Steve looked on, amused, in the background.

“This is wonderful, Miss Lewis. Thank you.”

She held out a hand for him to shake. “Call me Darcy, please. All things considered it seems a lost cause to pretend we know nothing about one another.”

Steve shook her proffered hand, and nodded. “Fair enough. And call me Steve. Not even my team calls me Captain Rogers.”

Darcy took her hand back and pulled one of the pencils out of her hair, fidgeting slightly. “Um, I don’t suppose you were planning on staying with Peggy during your visit to this fair city?”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “I always stay with Peg…” He slowly trailed off as he came to the same conclusion Darcy had clearly reached. “You’re staying with Peggy too.”

She shrugged. “I have reserved Emily’s old room every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday night for the indefinite future. I’m sure you’re welcome to Mike’s old room, though, if you don’t mind fighting over the coffee pot in the morning.”

“My Ma always taught me to stick to the ‘ladies first’ rule, so I’m sure combat won’t be necessary,” Steve deadpanned.

“You haven’t witnessed my caffeine intake. You may come to regret your chivalry,” Darcy quipped.

Steve, who had suddenly remembered that they were in an archive room at SHIELD, no doubt under surveillance, and Darcy was very nearly buried in material when the archive was set to close in a matter of hours, sought for a graceful exit. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work, and I’ll call Peg to let her know that she’ll apparently have a full house this week, then,” Steve said as he eased back away from her table (and when had he gotten so close?).

Darcy gave a sloppy salute, pencil still in her hand. “I’ll see you later, Cap.”

“Good luck with Howard’s handwriting,” Steve said as he started to walk backwards out of the room. “Peg always used to say it looked like a chimp was turning in his reports.”

  
Darcy sighed and stared down at the page in front of her. “She wasn’t wrong.”

 

 

***

 

 

As soon as Steve made it out of SHIELD’s headquarters and away from prying eyes, he pulled out his cell phone and called Peggy.

 

_“Hello?”_

“Hey there, Peg. It’s Steve.”

_“Hello, darling. How are you?”_

“I’m good. I, uh...I’m in DC, actually. I was hoping to come by for a visit. I probably should have called you before I drove down.”

_“You’re always welcome at the house, Steve, you know that. I do have another guest who’s sleeping in Emily’s old room, but you're certainly welcome to take Michael’s room for as long as you like.”_

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, marveling internally at Peggy’s ability to talk around the truth. “Oh yeah? Who is staying in Emily’s room?”

_“A good friend of mine. You two haven’t met yet, but I'm sure you'll get along.”_

“Peggy,” Steve chastised, “I know that Darcy is the one staying with you. Drop the coy act.”

_“Alright, fine. Darcy is the one staying with me. How on earth could you possibly know that?”_

“Because I just ran into her at SHIELD. Peg, please tell me this isn’t some grand conspiracy to trap the two of us together in the house in order to make us talk to one another.”

 _“You were always so dramatic,”_ Peggy teased. _“How could I orchestrate such a thing when you didn’t even tell me you were coming to visit until now?”_

“Right.” Peggy may have had a point, but Steve had a feeling she was leaving out a very important detail. “And Darcy is looking at your SHIELD files because….”

 _“Because I’ve asked her to write my biography. So it_ would _be beneficial if you would grant her an interview for the project, during which you will, of course, tell her all about how amazing I am, and how much you adore me.”_

“Of course,” Steve agreed. “But what you’re really telling me is that there _was_ a ploy to get us to talk to one another, you were just operating within a different time-frame.”

_“It was really just a convenient coincidence. However, the fact that fate intervened and brought you two together without my influence is only proof that I was right to try. And you aren’t going to convince me of anything different. By the by, could you pick up a nice bottle of something on your way over? French, preferably. And white, red wine gives me headaches.”_

“Celebrating, Peg? Seems a bit premature.”

 _“Now, darling,_ that _depends on what I’m celebrating.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a (relatively non-spoilery) photoset for this chapter is [here](https://pepperpottsblogs.tumblr.com/post/148161195350/stars-and-stripes-an-american-musical-chapter-6) on tumblr!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Peggy independently do their best to interfere (for good) as Darcy and Steve meet again at Peggy's house for dinner.

**Natasha:** you’re in DC rn

 **Steve:** Was that a question?

 **Natasha:** Darcy Lewis is in DC.

 **Steve:** How do you even know these things?

 **Natasha:** she was spotted at SHIELD, I know people

 **Natasha:** interestingly enough, you were also spotted at SHIELD

 **Natasha:** have you seen her

 **Steve:** yes

 **Natasha:** SPILL or I will redecorate your apartment in the most kitsch americana nonsense imaginable

 **Steve:** She was in the archives. I was in the archives. We are both staying at Peggy’s.

 **Natasha:** boring and insufficient to prevent me from putting up flag wallpaper

 **Steve:** She was doing research in the archives on Peggy and Howard and Bucky. She was very nice.

 **Natasha:** you ran out of there as quickly as you could, didn’t you?

 **Steve:** Actually, I stayed in the reading room for nearly an hour and a half after she showed up.

 **Natasha:** and spoke to her for less than five minutes

 **Natasha:** I bet you even called her Miss Lewis

 **Steve:** It’s called being polite, Nat.

 **Natasha:** I cannot believe you.

 **Steve:** She called me Captain Rogers until I told her to call me Steve!

 **Natasha:** Don’t you ruin this for me, Steve

 **Steve:** Ruin what?!

 **Natasha:** you know what

 **Steve:** I’ll see her again at dinner.

 **Natasha:** Use the War Bonds Smile. Wear the blue button up.

 **Steve:** I didn’t pack it.

 **Natasha:** …….

 **Steve:** What does that mean? What is “.......”?

 **Natasha:** ……………..

 **Steve:** You packed it for me??? Why?

 **Natasha:** I believe in being prepared for anything. You’re welcome.

 **Steve:** Any other orders?

 **Natasha:** yeah. get her phone number.

 

***

 

Darcy’s mother, despite having relocated to the northeast after college, had always stuck firm to the rules of Southern Hospitality.

Always say please and thank you. Be polite. Make yourself useful. And _always_ bring a hostess gift.

 

On her first visit to Peggy’s Georgetown abode, Darcy had brought along a selection of teas from Harney & Sons in Soho.

This time, she was planning on bringing along some local delicacies. So she diverted from her usual path through Georgetown to Peggy’s house, turning left down a small side street and heading downhill towards the waterfront. She ducked into the small bakery and cafe on her right, and made her way down the counter, ordering a variety of treats, from cookie sandwiches to cupcakes and brownies. In deference to Steve’s undoubtedly insane metabolism, she ordered in excess of what a normal three-person party could plow through over the course of the next few days and walked out with two large boxes laden with sweets and a bag of granola.

 

By the time she made it up the hill to Peggy’s house, Darcy’s arms were tired and she was sweating. She wondered why it hadn’t occurred to her to order an uber to drive her from Baked + Wired up the hill and also if maybe she should have asked Daisy to hold all the photocopies she had made in the archives until she came back the next day.

She came to a grateful stop in front of Peggy’s robin’s-egg-blue door and carefully shifted the boxes over to balance on her left forearm so she could knock with her right hand.

She had expected one of the innumerable and seemingly interchangeable SHIELD agents in a generic government-issue suit to answer the door as usual, and was thrown off-kilter when Steve suddenly appeared in front of her.

 

“Oh, it’s you.”

“I’m...sorry?” Steve stammered out.

“No! I’m not like _disappointed_ that it’s you,” Darcy hastened to clarify, “it’s just that I’ve grown so accustomed to the Men in Black opening the door and glaring at me and you know, the whole ‘is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me’ thing and I was all psyched up with my best non-threatening face on and then it’s you.”

Steve’s eyebrows had been steadily climbing towards his hairline as her speech ran on, and one side of his mouth was quirked up in amusement. It was, Darcy had to admit, a good look on him.

“Also I come bearing gifts!” She held out the teetering stack of white pastry boxes in her arms.

 

“Steven, would you please let the poor girl in the house?” called Peggy from down the hall, the tapping of her cane against the tile just audible under the sound of her voice. “I am entirely certain that your mother taught you better manners.”

Steve immediately sprang to the side of the doorframe and offered to take the boxes out of Darcy’s hands. So she handed them over with a smile and stepped inside, tugging the strap of her messenger bag over her head with some difficulty and depositing it with a heavy thunk of the floor just inside the entryway. She rolled her sore shoulder and rubbed at it quickly with her opposite hand before Peggy finally drew even with her and pulled her into a one-armed hug.

“Hey, Peggy. I brought you some Hippie Crack from Baked. And cupcakes, obviously.”

“Hippie Crack?” Steve asked, staring down at the boxes in his arm suspiciously.

“It’s just granola, Steven, calm down.” Peggy pressed a series of playful kisses to her cheeks and forehead. “And you are an angel! Although I must ask, are you going to bring me foodstuffs every time you come to visit?”

“Southern hospitality says yes,” Darcy answered. “Although flowers and candles are also valid options.”

“You’re from Pennsylvania,” Peggy countered.

“Yes, but my mamma is from Savannah, Georgia,” Darcy drawled in her best imitation of her mother’s accent, “and I’m not particularly interested in giving her fresh cause to reprimand me over the phone. I’m already in trouble for going below the Mason-Dixon Line and not visiting my Aunt Marlene.”

“Well, where does she live?” Peggy asked, one arm linked with Darcy’s as they headed towards the kitchen.

“Atlanta,” Darcy sighed. “When I visited her my sophomore year of college, she tried to set me up with no less than three different men from her church and when I asked her to stop, she set me up on a coffee date with a woman from her book club.”

“And you didn’t like any of them?”

“They all lived several hundred miles away from me and I barely had enough free time to do _laundry_ on a regular basis. A long-distance relationship was not the in the cards. Plus it’s kind of weird for your aunt to be _that_ desperate to find you a significant other when you’ve barely entered your twenties. I hadn’t even figured out how to file my own taxes yet.”

“And what about now?” Peggy pried.

Darcy rolled her eyes and replied, “I have figured out how to do my taxes now, yes. Thanks for asking.”

Steve started to chuckle behind the two women.

Peggy smirked over at Darcy as she took a seat at the dining table. “Cheeky little thing.”

“Pot, kettle,” Darcy threw out as she sank into a chair and stretched her shoulders and rolled her neck. “Thanks for not warning me about Howard’s weird handwriting quirks.”

“Ahhh, yes. Have you figured out Stark Shorthand, then?”

“Ish.” Darcy shrugged. “I haven’t quite mastered it yet. But I smell like old paper and ink and I gained like, 4 paper cuts today, so I’m off to a great start.”

“You measure your successes in paper cuts?” Steve asked.

“They are a researcher’s badge of honor, Steve. The battle wounds one incurs in the noble pursuit of knowledge!”

Steve cast a sideways glance at Peggy. “And you call me dramatic?”

Peggy glanced pointedly at Steve and then at Darcy as she said, “Pot, kettle.”

Darcy shrugged. “I spend my time around a genius composer and a hoard of theater actors. Of course I’m dramatic.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Darcy started to internally panic. She hadn’t meant to bring up the show, and everything had been going so smoothly…

“How is Jane doing? Did she finish up that new project?” Peggy asked with a soft knowing smile, steering the conversation into safer waters.

“Jane’s great. She’s very excited about the book, if a bit peeved that I’ll be stealing off to DC every week to haunt the archives for the foreseeable future. She says the apartment’s too quiet when I’m gone and the Chinese delivery place gets confused when she doesn’t order the same stuff. But the new project sounds _amazing,_ she played it for me when I got back _._ ” Darcy settled into the chair and explained, in part for Steve’s benefit, “It’s this HBO miniseries on the gang wars in Chicago, so it’s all horns and rhythm and swing...it’s awesome. It’s so much fun.”

“Marvelous,” Peggy said, before craning her head around to look at Steve. “Steve, darling, why don’t you pour us all a glass of wine and check on the lasagna?”

Steve patted the back of Peggy’s chair and nodded. “Sure thing.”

 

Darcy got caught up in telling Peggy all about Antonio’s laughable attempts at flirting with Big Steve backstage at the show, including the time when he tried to be smooth and slide across the wooden floors and ended up sliding directly into Small Steve, sending them both tumbling to the ground, and so lost track of what Actual, Real Life Steve was doing.

Right up until the moment Peggy craned her head around to look into the kitchen and started shaking her head, bemused but affectionate.

She turned to look at Darcy, sighed, and patted her hand where it was resting on top of the table. “Would you please go help the poor boy? He’s been looking for the bottle opener this whole time and I worry if you don’t stop him he’ll smash the bottle open against the counter in his desperation.”

Darcy smiled and pushed back from the table. “Are you going to tell me where it is, or would that spoil your fun?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Peggy said, her best innocent expression in place. “And I’m afraid I don’t remember where I left the corkscrew.”

“Of course you don’t,” Darcy shot back as she walked into the kitchen. “Because you’re only an absent-minded old lady when it suits you.”

 

Steve was sorting through a drawer next to the oven, frowning, when Darcy drew even with him. He looked down at her and sighed. “She’s enjoying this, isn’t she?”

“So much,” Darcy agreed as she shook her head. “She’s pretending she doesn’t know where the bottle opener is.”

“I can ask her to stop, if it’s making you uncomfortable,” Steve whispered, stiff and a little awkward.

“Please,” Darcy laughed. “It’s hilarious. I kind of want to see how far she’s going to take it...unless _you’re_ uncomfortable?”

“No, no!” Steve twitched badly enough that he shut his hand in the drawer. “I’m fine.”

“Good,” Darcy said, politely pretending she hadn’t noticed the thing with the drawer or the way he was rubbing at his hand. “Have you checked the silverware drawer yet?”

 

***

 

Darcy was every bit as funny and articulate and warm as she had seemed in all those television interviews and tweets and from what Steve had gleaned from Peggy’s affectionate ravings. It meant she was easy to talk to, and a pleasure to listen to, and also that Steve felt incredibly stiff by comparison.

 

“Wait, you have a notebook of pop culture phenomena to catch up on? Really?”

Steve nodded.

“That is truly excellent,” Darcy pronounced. “A good, studious approach. Can I see it? Would you mind? I need to see what other people are recommending. I need to see what you’re missing. Like Fiona Apple, has anyone told you to listen to Fiona Apple yet?”

Steve pulled the notebook out of his pants pocket and handed it over, almost without thinking. Darcy had asked to see it, of course he was going to give it to her.

It wasn’t until the notebook was in her hands and she was paging through it that Steve remembered that _Stars + Stripes (musical?)_ was on the third page with a line through it. And he could see the moment that Darcy saw it, could see her freeze and blink rapidly, and her fingers twitch slightly. But she simply took a breath and turned the page and furrowed her brow slightly and demanded, “Who told you to listen to the Wu Tang Clan _before_ Frank Sinatra? Or even Britney Spears? It was Tony wasn’t it? He would.”

“Yeah, that was Tony,” Steve said. “Should I not?”

Darcy waved a hand dismissively. “I mean sure, eventually. But I can’t understand why it is in here so quickly. It’s before Star Wars?! Unacceptable.”

“Natasha was the one who told me to watch Star Wars.”

“Of course she was,” Peggy laughed. “Why am I not surprised?”

Darcy glanced between the two of them in confusion. “Who’s Natasha? Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“She’s the Black Widow, darling,” Peggy confided as she reached for her wine glass. “One of my best agents. Of course, everyone had a heart attack when Hawkeye brought her in unauthorized. The fact that she’s a superhero now--I’m so proud of her.”

Steve looked over at Peggy in surprise. “I didn’t know you were still Director when Natasha started at SHIELD.”

“It was just before I retired. I’m the only reason that Nick didn’t kill the entirety of Strike Team Delta when they arrived back at base with the Black Widow in tow, and very much alive.”

“Is that a thing I can put in the book? Because that is very cool. And I love her. I mean I love you, Peggy, obviously, that is very well established by now, but I love the Black Widow.”

“She’ll be thrilled to hear that,” Steve said. “She uh, well she’s actually the one who got me to listen to your show. She’d seen it in person a few times and thought it was great.”

 

Darcy was dying. Darcy was dead, she had ascended to another plane-

 

“Breathe, dearest,” Peggy admonished. “I’d much prefer it if you started crying again rather than passing out at my dinner table.”

“I’m fine,” Darcy wheezed. “This is fine, I’m fine.” She took a deep breath. “I just need a moment.”

“I’ve been told alcohol helps,” Steve said as he reached across the table and refilled her wine glass. “Not that I have much personal experience.”

“Bless you,” Darcy said before leaning forward to take a generous gulp.

 

 

***

 

 **Darcy:** Um, hi! This is Darcy Lewis. Steve Rogers gave me your number? I hope this is okay! If not, just ignore me. Or block me. I can get a new phone if I need to. I don’t know. I think you’re great and amazing. This reads like the world’s saddest voicemail, I’m sorry.

 **Natasha:** when I told Steve to get your number, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind ;)

 **Darcy:** ngl, the wink emoticon coming from you is kind of terrifying.

 **Darcy:** but please elaborate, what did you have in mind?

 **Natasha:** for him to get your number for himself so that you could talk, maybe get together when you’re both in the same city again for coffee

 **Natasha:**  he has a thing for outspoken brunettes.

 **Darcy:** speaking of, have you been colluding with Peggy?

 **Natasha:** not yet ;)

 **Darcy:** …..oops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're interested, I posted a pretty long ask about my headcanons for the Stars and Stripes musical itself [here](https://pepperpottsblogs.tumblr.com/post/148414818730/cant-pick-a-particular-snippet-but-any-commentary) on my tumblr!
> 
> and there is a photoset for this chapter [here](https://pepperpottsblogs.tumblr.com/post/148509222250/stars-and-stripes-an-american-musical-chapter-7)!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy has trouble being sociable before her morning coffee; Natasha meddles and calls in a series of favors; everyone agrees that SHIELD's macaroni and cheese is a Weapon of Mass Destruction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as some of you may already know from tumblr, I've had a crazy week between losing power for 40 hours on Wednesday and Thursday and computer trouble today. My laptop has been sent off for keyboard repairs, so I'm working from my iPad, which means no photoset for this chapter :( 
> 
> But I think you all will once more be riding the "NAT YES-NAT NO" rollercoaster. But like, happily riding the rollercoaster. I hope.

**Darcy:** This day has been crazy surreal and I’m concerned I may have inhaled some kind of weird weaponized mold and I’m hallucinating say something typically Jane

 **Jane:** I told you to be careful doing research at that place

 **Darcy:** Oh good, that was very Jane. I’m probably not tripping then.

 **Jane:** What happened?

 **Darcy:** I met Steve Rogers

 **Jane:** omg

 **Darcy:** We’re both staying at Peggy’s house

 **Jane:** OMG

 **Darcy:** I’m pretty sure that Peggy and the Black Widow are both trying to set us up

 **Jane:** whaaaaattt???

 **Jane:**  would you *want* your Historical Boyfriend to become your Actual Boyfriend??

 **Darcy:** idkkkk this is really weird Janie

 **Darcy:** I mean he’s really cute and endearingly awkward and he’s got a really dry sense of humor which is awesome

 **Darcy:** but I feel like I’m a weird (accidental) stalker but he also seems okay with it? maybe?

 **Jane:** just be your charming self and don’t assume you know everything about him and treat him as you would any new acquaintance

 **Jane:** you won me over and I thought you were totally overwhelming at first

 **Darcy:** awwww I love you little bird

 **Jane:** love you crazy cat

 **Darcy:** now. it’s bedtime, go to sleep

 **Jane:** PLEASE MOM 5 more minutes?

 **Darcy:** GO THE F TO SLEEP

 

***

 

Darcy was not a morning person.

 

This was hardly a secret to anyone who knew her. Darcy would roll out of bed in her pajamas, brush her teeth and wash her face, then shuffle to the kitchen to blearily make coffee and gulp it down while still standing. It had been her routine, largely unchanged, since high school.

So she rolled out of the bed in Emily’s old room at Peggy’s house and padded her way down the hallway to the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and washed her face, eyes barely open, but aware enough to know that her hair was huge and there was a new hole worn in the collar of her faded t-shirt. She then shuffled her way along the hall and down the stairs, miscalculating only once and grabbing the banister in time to keep herself from tumbling the rest of the way down. She then padded across the entryway and back into the kitchen, very nearly barrelling into Steve’s back on her blind path to the coffee maker.

“What are you doing here?” she mumbled as she struggled to find a way around his (very very broad) shoulders.

Steve glanced down at her as she skirted around him and mechanically pulled a mug from one cabinet and haphazardly sloshed coffee into it. “You keep greeting me like this and I’m going to develop a complex.”

“‘S early,” she pouted. She narrowed her eyes at him over the rim of her mug, taking in his pressed button-down and khakis and his neatly parted hair. “You’re a morning person.”

 _“That_ was accusatory.”

“I need 10 minutes to emerge from my cave troll persona before we continue or it could get worse.” Darcy gulped down the rest of her mug of coffee and promptly turned around to refill it.

“I don’t actually mind,” Steve demurred, “Hawkeye’s a lot like this before noon. Worse maybe.”

 

Darcy sipped at her second cup of coffee, her eyes slowly becoming more alert as Steve waited her out.

 

She finally looked back at Steve, blinking, and asked, “Did I actually say what I think I said to you?”

“If it’s ‘what are you doing here’ and ‘you’re a morning person,’ then yes.”

She groaned and slumped to the counter. “I swear I do actually know the word ‘hello’ and I usually use it at the socially obligated times and I genuinely don’t want to give you a complex.”

Steve shrugged. “Hardly the worst I’ve heard. You’d be surprised how many times I’ve been told I’m disappointing in person. Everybody expects me to be bigger, I guess.”

“Well now that you mention it, Big Steve in the show is like, two inches taller than you,” Darcy said as she straightened up. “But less built like an actual human tank, so I think it all evens out.”

Steve laughed, head ducked slightly in embarrassment. “Do you actually call them Big Steve and Little Steve all the time?”

“Oh yeah,” Darcy said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “They’ve become this weirdly codependent unit so we usually just call them The Steves. They have the same mannerisms, they’re both allergic to shellfish. They moved in together about a month ago and it’s gotten even worse,” Darcy confided as she started making toast. “Jane’s developed a conspiracy theory that they were grown in a lab and then separated as some kind of weird science experiment.”

“It would be appropriate, I guess.”

“You know,” Darcy marveled as she turned back to face him, “I hadn’t even thought of that. But you’re absolutely 100% right, and Jane will be thrilled to hear it.”

She turned back to the toaster, carefully pinching each slice of bread between two fingers and flinging them onto a plate as quickly as she could.

“You um, are you going back to SHIELD today?” Steve asked from behind her as she started to spread peanut butter over her toast.

“Yeah, I have an appointment to be there all day today.” Darcy licked a glob of peanut butter off of her thumb. “Still have a ton of stuff to get through. What about you?”

“Yeah, I have to go in today. But not the archives,” Steve clarified, somewhat clumsily. “Upstairs.”

“Ahhhh,” Darcy hummed. “The mysterious upstairs. The great unknown.”

“It’s honestly just a bunch of offices and conference rooms,” Steve said. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Darcy attempted to mime the extent of her disappointment as she struggled to chew and swallow her mouthful of peanut butter toast. When she could finally unstick her tongue from the roof of her mouth, she asked, “Where is Peggy, anyway? She’s usually down here waiting for me. She likes to watch my zombie impersonation in the mornings.”

Steve shrugged. “I haven’t seen her yet this morning. But she had to have come down to start the coffee maker.”

Darcy crunched into her piece of toast and shook her head, chewing quickly. “I honestly thought she’d be more subtle than this.”

“Subtle takes longer.” Steve traced an unseen pattern in the marble countertop on the island. “I think that’s a lesson I taught her, unfortunately.”

Darcy found herself suddenly grateful for the giant mouthful of peanut butter that gave her time to compose herself and come up with a subject change. “Natasha isn’t exactly subtle either.”

Steve groaned and stared up at the ceiling, the very picture of ‘Lord, give me strength’ if Darcy had ever seen it. “The woman is a menace. What did she do now?”

“She winked at me via text. Twice.”

“Well that’s it then,” Steve sighed. “You’re done for.”

“What?” Darcy squeaked.

“The wink is kind of like being marked for death, except instead of death, you’ve been marked for her constant meddling,” Steve explained. “If you have any vents in your apartment, consider them like another door from now on. Also the windows.”

“She doesn’t even know where I live!”

Steve clicked his tongue in disappointment. “If you honestly believe that, Miss Lewis, you aren’t nearly as smart as I thought.”

 

  
***

 

 **Natasha:** what are your plans for the day?

 **Steve:** I’ve got a meeting with Hill at 2.

 **Steve:** But something tells me that isn’t what you meant.

 **Natasha:** you should offer to have lunch with Darcy so she doesn’t have to brave the canteen alone

 **Natasha:** and make sure she doesn’t try their mac and cheese

 **Steve:** Isn’t that a little presumptuous?

 **Natasha:** No. That mac n cheese is dangerous. Always.

 **Natasha:** but seriously, she has to eat

 **Natasha:** and normal people get uncomfortable in unfamiliar situations

 **Natasha:** it’s not presumptuous, it’s polite. As long as you don’t order her around or something

 **Steve:** Okay.

 **Steve:** I can do this.

 **Natasha:** you are asking someone to a workday lunch in a horrific government canteen. save your nerves for fancy dinner dates and marriage proposals.

 **Steve:** You are not as helpful as you think you are.

 

 **Steve:** Hey Darcy, it’s Steve. If you take a break for lunch and you’d like some company, I’ll be at SHIELD for the rest of the day. I’ll be doing paperwork until my meeting at 2, so I’m free anytime before then. No matter what you decide, I’ve been told you should avoid the macaroni and cheese.

 

 **Steve:** I did it

 **Natasha:** does the puppy require treats for performing his tricks?

 **Steve:** You will pay for this, Romanov.

 **Steve:** What I was actually going to say is that there’s no cell phones allowed in the reading room, so what if Darcy doesn’t get my message?

 **Natasha:** I will handle this

 **Steve:** What does that mean?

 

 **Steve:** Natasha, what does that mean?? What are you doing?

 **Steve:** Why do I get the feeling that it’s going to be something embarrassing?

 

 **Natasha:** Are you still the Archival Gremlin?

 **Daisy:** ...yes?

 **Natasha:** I need you to give Darcy Lewis her cell phone because she has a very important text that she needs to see

 **Daisy:** that’s against protocol and I’m already on Phil’s List

 **Natasha:** I will get you off of Phil’s list if you do this for me. I will get you back your laptop if you do this for me.

 **Daisy:** done and done, Miss Spy!

 **Daisy:** this is literally just a casual lunch invitation and a warning about the caf’s radioactive mac n cheese. Why is this so important to you?

 **Natasha:** look at the sender

 **Daisy:** OMGGG FitzSimmons are gonna LOSE IT

 **Natasha:** No, they will not, because you will tell no one of this.

 **Daisy:** awwww, come on

 **Natasha:** in return I will keep you apprised of any developments moving forward

 **Daisy:** :( :( :(

 **Natasha:** and I will go to karaoke with you when I am back in DC

 **Daisy:** SOLD!!! :D !!!!!  <3

 **Daisy:** What duet should we sing first? I Got You, Babe? Don't You Want Me? Don't Go Breaking My Heart?

 

 

 **Natasha:** You are going to owe me SO big for this, btw

 **Steve:** For what?? What are you doing??

 **Natasha:** singing something horrifically cheesy at karaoke apparently

 

 

 **Natasha:** Phil, I need you to give Daisy her computer back

 **Phil:** Natasha, she hacked the database so that she could play Mad Libs with Ward’s personnel file

 **Phil:** She changed his birthplace to “Intercourse, PA” and his gender to “Demon”

 **Natasha:** I would have done worse

 **Phil:** she listed “Excellent Dolly Parton Impression” under the Special Skills section and erased his scores so thoroughly that he’s had to requalify for field duty and range access

 **Natasha:** Regardless, I am invoking Caracas. Give the girl her actual laptop back.

 **Phil:** Caracas? That is a low blow, Romanov. Low blow.  
  
**Natasha** : It’s for an honorable and noble cause, one near and dear to your heart. And mine.

 **Phil** : such as?

 **Natasha** : The Star Spangled Man.

 **Phil** : I walked right into that

 **Natasha** : I get what I want, Phil. The man needs a date. And friends.

 **Phil** : PLEASE tell me you are not trying to set him up with Daisy.

 **Natasha** : No. Daisy’s just doing me a favor.

 **Phil** : Fine. All I’m going to say is that this had better not go the way of Clint and Bobbi in Minsk

 **Natasha** : Of course not

 **Natasha** : Darcy doesn’t have access to hand grenades

 **Phil** : Darcy? Who is Darcy?

 

 **Phil** : Natasha? Are you attempting to set Steve Rogers up with his own biographer?

 

 **Phil** : Natasha, you are not going to be able to avoid me forever. What are you planning?

 **Natasha** : ;)

 **Phil** : Oh, Christ, not again

 

 

 

 **Darcy:** Hey Steve! What a gentleman! I was planning to break for lunch at 12:30. Does that work for you?

 **Steve:** Absolutely--I’ll come down to get you at 12:30.

 

Steve was banging his head against the desk in the minuscule office he had been assigned in DC, immediately regretting his last text. Picking a girl up was the way it was when he had been growing up, but Steve had noticed that some of those old mannerisms weren’t normal nowadays, and it was also far less casual than the invitation had sounded to begin with.

 

It sounded, at least to him, decisively date-like.

 

He lifted his head up when his phone pinged from its spot next to his head.

 

 **Darcy:** Sounds like an excellent plan! I tend to lose track of time down here and that way I don’t need to ask Daisy to keep an eye on the time for me. See you then!

 

He let out a slow breath and slumped back down on the desk.

He could do this.

  
Whatever _this_ was.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy starts drafting Peggy's biography, meets a familiar face in SHIELD's cafeteria, and problem-solves for Antonio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is a wee bit shorter than the last few because I'm still trying to catch up after all the power outage drama and computer troubles of last week. But I finally got my beloved laptop back and he's got a shiny new keyboard and track pad! So I should be back on track again next week.

**_Draft - Preface - Option 1_ **

**_Project: Peggy Carter_ **

 

_I have lost count of the number of times I have seen a powerful woman compared to a storm--she is a force of nature, a hurricane. And while it is immediately apparent upon meeting her that Peggy Carter is a force, possessing an intelligence, a fierceness, and a warmth that are captivating, there is no mistaking her for a storm. She is too controlled, too calculating, and--perhaps most importantly--too compassionate for such a label._

 

_But one of her best qualities, and one that is far too often overlooked as a strength of character, is her faith in other people._

 

_Despite what numerous historians would have you believe, Steve Rogers would have never become Captain America if it weren't for the trust and faith that Peggy Carter chose to put in him--contrary to the opinions of her male superiors._

_Imagine, for a moment, how drastically the course of history might be changed if a young British officer in the SSR had not campaigned for Steve Rogers to be chosen for Project Rebirth. If, later on, she had not believed that he was capable of more than dressing up in a costume and selling war bonds._

_Imagine if the Director of SHIELD had followed the advice of every major intelligence officer in this country and had the Black Widow assassinated instead of taking a leap of faith and giving a young woman a chance at redemption._

_Imagine the Avengers without two of their teammates, and you will begin to understand the impact that Peggy Carter has had on the world we live in._

 

_Peggy Carter’s consistent belief in the ability of human beings to be a force for good, to make use of their unique traits and talents as a force for betterment, is--I believe--her greatest legacy, and one whose impact will long outlive her._

 

~~_Although her 650 successfully completed missions as a field agent are certainly impressive, too._ ~~

 

~~_Or if you want to be literal about it, Emily and Michael are totally well-adjusted adults who give generously to charity, I guess…_ ~~

 

***

 

 

Darcy stared down at the offerings in SHIELD’s commissary with a critical eye. She had already been warned against the macaroni and cheese, which admittedly did not look appetizing. Her years of dining hall food had taught her to avoid any mysterious, unidentifiable meats and over-steamed vegetable medleys. Which left her with the salad bar, prepackaged deli sandwiches, three kinds of soup, and dessert.

“The lentil soup is probably your safest option,” a voice chimed in from next to her.

She glanced over at the gentleman, took in his custom tailored suit and tie, neat hair and bright blue eyes and the bowl of lentil soup on his own tray and nodded. “Lentil it is. Thanks for the tip. I didn’t expect lunch to feel quite so much like navigating a mine-field.”

“It’s part of the training program,” he deadpanned. “Agents who can’t survive the mess aren’t allowed out in the field.” 

She blinked slowly and jerked her chin towards the dessert display. “In that case, would you mind telling me which type of pie is safe to eat? I’ve done a lot of things for the sake of my research, but food poisoning is one I’d like to avoid.”

His eyes crinkled at the corners even though he didn’t really smile. “Stick with cherry and you should be safe to catch your train tomorrow morning, Miss Lewis.” She stood there, gaping like a fish in surprise as he picked up his tray. “Enjoy the archives, and tell Peggy I say hello.”

“But I don’t actually know who you are!” Darcy called out as he turned to walk away.

“I’m Agent Coulson, Miss Lewis. I suspect we’ll be seeing more of each other.”

 

And then, between one blink and the next, he was gone.

 

“What on earth?” she muttered as she stomped over to grab a slice of cherry pie.

“You okay?” came Steve’s voice from behind her. “You’re um, muttering to the pie display.”

“Everyone in this organization has a very strange definition of privacy,” Darcy explained as the walked towards the register. “And I say that as someone who is notorious for being nosy. I ask people invasive questions all the time. It’s what I do.” She smiled at the cashier and passed over her debit card before continuing. “And I have a healthy respect for what you all do here, but sometimes you lot are clearly just showing off.” She looked back at him once and then frowned slightly. “Not you, actually. You’re definitely not a spy. But everybody else--including Peggy, I don’t care how retired she claims to be.”

“Natasha?” Steve asked as he stepped forward to pay for his lunch.

“No, this time it was a guy named Agent Coulson.”

Darcy watched as Steve’s brows furrowed in thought. “What? What are you thinking?”

Steve sighed, thanked the cashier and then started leading Darcy in the direction of an open table. “I’m thinking that Agent Coulson was Natasha’s handler for many, many years.”

“I see,” Darcy said as she sat down across from Steve. “In other words, even when it doesn’t seem like Natasha’s involved, she probably is.”

Steve shrugged and bit into his sandwich. “That’s probably a good general rule, yes.”

“You two seem to get on pretty well, regardless.”

“She’s a good friend,” Steve said. “Sometimes the way she chooses to express her affection is a little odd, but she means well.” He put down his sandwich and wiped his hands on a napkin. “Sometimes she reminds me of Bucky,” he admitted.

Darcy was saved from coming up with response to that when her phone started going off in her bag. She dropped her spoon into her bowl of (surprisingly decent) lentil soup and rummaged through her bag until she could scoop up her phone, Antonio’s face on the screen.

 

_“Hola, hermanito.”_

“Darcy,” Antonio whined. _“Ayudame.”_

“What’s wrong?” Darcy noticed Steve tensing up and waved off his concern. Antonio had minor crises all the time, and none of them were the kind that required an Avenger to stop eating his lunch.

“It’s almost Jake’s birthday and Sasha got him something really super amazing and--”

“Antonio,” Darcy cut him off. “Big Steve’s birthday is not for another two weeks. You have plenty of time to come up with something to rival Small Steve’s present.” Darcy rolled her eyes for Steve’s benefit, savoring the little smile she got in response before he went back to eating.

“Darcy…” Antonio whined again. “This is important!”

She pinched the bridge of her nose and said, “Why don’t you do like, a day of all his favorite things? So, take him out to breakfast at Rue 57 and then go to a museum and then the Park and you can hit up the Strand booths and then you guys can do dinner or something before your call time. Although I still say if you’re smart you’ll take both Steves. Simultaneous wooing might better your odds of success.”

“That’s a good idea,” Antonio mused. “You’re so smart.”

“I know.”

“But then what do I give him? Like, on his birthday. Physically.”

“I could make a very inappropriate joke right now,” Darcy warned, “but seeing as I am in public--you give him a card. I’ll even help you figure out the wording when I’m home this weekend. Okay?”

 _“Gracias, hermana,”_ Antonio drawled. “You’re the best.”

 “I love you too, Antonio. Can I eat my lunch now?”

“Yes! Thank you, love you, bye!”

Antonio hung up before she could even respond, a habit she was accustomed to by now.

 

“Everything okay?” Steve asked as she put her phone away.

“He’s fine,” Darcy said. “He’s just been hopelessly flirting for weeks at this point and seems to think that if he magically alights upon the perfect birthday present that he can move past the awkward stage.”

“Both Steves?” Steve asked, voice curious, but not at all judgmental.

“They’re kind of a matched set. And since Antonio likes both of them…” She shrugged. “I don’t see much point in enduring the angst of two thirds of them getting together and leaving one the odd wheel out when they can all just be one happy love fest.”

“So you’re the Natasha in this situation,” Steve deadpanned.

“Excuse you! I am the Peggy in this situation, if anything. Mostly I just wait for Antonio to ask for my input, which is more often than makes sense, given my track record. I’m not actively manipulating! Much.”

“Much,” Steve said with a smile. “Don’t let Natasha find out or she just might try to help you.”

  
“Honestly, if it would save me a few hours of Antonio tipsily waxing poetic in Spanish about Jake’s muscles and Sasha’s eyes, I might welcome her tactics.”

"Famous last words," Steve intoned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a photoset for this chapter is [here](https://pepperpottsblogs.tumblr.com/post/149187252480/stars-and-stripes-an-american-musical-chapter-9) on tumblr!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy makes more progress with Peggy's biography, if not with Peggy herself, and heads back to New York.

**_Draft: WWII Years_ **

**_Peggy Carter_ **

 

 _Contrary to numerous rumors, Peggy was never in a romantic relationship with Howard Stark,_ ~~_although the two were close for many years, and Peggy gave one of the eulogies at Howard and Maria’s funeral on New Year’s Eve in 1991 / although she was named godmother to Tony Stark_ ~~

 

_Howard did attempt to kiss Peggy once, as part of the V-E Day celebrations in London, but Peggy promptly shoved him into the Thames._

_Howard did not know how to swim._

_Peggy was well aware of that fact._

  


 

***

 

 

“Agent Coulson says hi,” Darcy told Peggy as she slumped into the chair next to hers in the sunroom, finally back at the house after a full day at SHIELD.

“Good old Phil, always a delight.” Peggy poured out a cup of tea and handed it over to Darcy. “Poor thing completely embarrassed himself the first time he met Steve, he’s such a big fan. Didn’t do much better when he realized who I was back in the day either, which I’m fairly certain is why Nick sent him to deliver the reports in the first place.” She waited for Darcy to take a sip of her tea before asking, “So how was your lunch date with Steven?”

Darcy squinted at her. “How do you know we had lunch together?”

Peggy sighed. “Darling, I recruited at least a quarter of the people still working in that building. They tell me things.”

“Your ability to inspire such loyalty is admirable, but it’s also becoming incredibly annoying.”

“You’ll come to accept it in time. How was your lunch?”

“Good. I had the lentil soup and cherry pie, on Agent Coulson’s suggestion.”

Peggy sighed and gently flicked Darcy's arm. “And people used to say I was obtuse.”

“Peg,” Darcy rebuked. “I know your heart’s in the right place, but did it ever occur to you that by hovering quite so much you’re actually making it _more_ awkward?”

“That’s one theory,” Peggy acknowledged.

“There's another one?”

“Yes. That Natasha and I are giving you a common enemy of sorts. You and Steve are united in your frustration--and amusement--with our antics.”

Darcy sighed and slumped back into her chair, shooting Peggy a pointed look out of the corner of her eye.

“I’m going to assume that means I’m right.”

“Insufferable, more like it.”

 

Steve paused just inside the door of the solarium and cocked his head to one side, looking between the two women. “Does this mean the honeymoon phase is over?”

Peggy scoffed. “Like you would know, Steven. You never broke out of it.”

Darcy snorted and then waved hello from where she was slumped over in her chair. "The spies continue to be inexplicably knowledgable and it's been a long day. I need a cupcake."

Steve nodded and started to back out of the room. "I'll grab the box of cupcakes out of the kitchen. Be right back."

Peggy raised a brow and smirked at Darcy, who groaned and slumped even further in the chair. 

"You'll miss me when you're back in New York, you know. Natasha's going to be so much worse."

  


 

***

 

 

**_Draft: WWII Years_ **

**_Peggy Carter_ **

 

_Peggy Carter got her start in British Intelligence as a codebreaker at the famed Bletchley Park facility._

 

_“We used to sunbathe topless on the roof on nice days,” Carter recounts fondly. “Until the flyboys took a few too many low-flying detours and spoiled the fun.”_

 

_Peggy was recruited from Bletchley because in addition to her skill as a cryptographer, she was known for having some of the best instincts--for having that indefinable ability to understand her enemy well enough to predict their moves even before the proper messages could be decoded._

_The skills she developed at Bletchley Park continued to be useful as Peggy’s career evolved, and were critical in several operations during the Cold War. Specifics on those missions remain classified to this day._

_“A shame, really,” Carter laments over her cup of Darjeeling. “I was particularly impressive in those. Should they be declassified before publication, you’ll work them in for me, won’t you darling?”_

  


 

***

 

 

 **TheOfficialDarcy** do you ever have one of those 2 am bursts of productivity where every idea you have seems totally brilliant and valid?

 

 **TheOfficialDarcy** in other news, I should not be allowed to make decisions between the hours of midnight and ten am

 

 **IAmIronMan** **@TheOfficialDarcy** welcome to the club kid. my latest project keeps running into the walls. <photo attached>

 

 **TheOfficialDarcy** **@IAmIronMan** you know I can’t build robots, Stark. *cough*SHOWOFF*cough*

 

 **IAmIronMan @TheOfficialDarcy** I’ve got a bot up for adoption, great at putting out fires. You interested?

 

 **TheOfficialDarcy @IAmIronMan** what I really need is a self-operating coffee maker. got one of those lying around you can toss my way?

 

 **IAmIronMan @TheOfficialDarcy** a woman after my own heart. give me 48 hours.

 

 

***

 

 

Darcy had caught an Uber not long after sunrise to get to Union Station in time to catch her train back to New York, and was already gone by the time Steve made it back to the house after his run.

 

He swung into the kitchen to grab a glass of water before heading upstairs to shower, stopping short when he noticed a small notebook on the kitchen counter with his name scrawled across the cover in Darcy’s loopy handwriting.

 

Just inside the front cover was a short note:

_Hey Steve, I know you have your own little black book, but I thought I’d give you some suggestions of my own...it’s a slightly more systematic approach than you’ve taken to the 21st century thus far, but my inner academic can do no less._

 

Steve flipped through a couple of pages, noting that she had organized her lists by type of media (music, movies, books) and that the pop culture items were ranked into three different levels of difficulty. There was also a section for significant events and terms, and a “not necessarily well-known stuff, but the things I recommend to friends who aren’t trying to learn about the 21st century” section.

 

 

 **Steve:** Thanks for the notebook--the difficulty levels were a nice touch.

 **Darcy:** you’re welcome! I worried it was kind of weird once the coffee kicked in

 **Steve:** When did you even have time to make this?

 **Darcy:** my sleep schedule never recovered from college, so you know. 2 am.

 **Steve:** Did you actually cross-reference items across lists? Seriously?

 **Darcy:** I’m just going to pretend I fell asleep on the train and missed that text

 **Steve:** Nice try

 **Darcy:**  ZZzzzzzzz

 

  
***  


 

**Video: "WELCOME HOME D"**

**User: AntonioOnBroadway**

 

A: "Hey Jane, Jane look over here!"

[  _Jane’s head whips around to look at the camera._ ]

A: "Tell the folks at home what we’re doing today." 

J: "Picking up Darcy from the train station!"

A: "And how long has she been gone?" 

J: "Two days."  [  _Jane frowns, a comic exaggeration_ ]

[ _Marcia appears over her shoulder_  ]

M: "It’s been so long!"  [ _Marcia winks_ ]

A: "And what did we get her as a coming home surprise?"

M+J (unison): "Cake!"

[ _the camera zooms in on the box in Jane’s arms, featuring a grocery store cake decorated in Disney princesses_ ]

A: "A _Disney_ cake. We’re the best friends."

J: "Really we just wanted an excuse for cake."

M: "It’s true."

  


***

 

Darcy shuffled out of the elevator into the lobby of her apartment building, yawning widely as she made her way to the front desk.

“Morning, Marco. What’s this about a delivery?”

Marco gestured to a giant box next to him, wrapped in gold paper and topped with a red bow. “This was hand-delivered for you this morning, miss. You got a secret admirer I need to know about?”

Darcy blinked down at the garish package. “Only if I don’t know about them either.”

She pulled a small white card out from under the edge of the bow, and read the message out loud. “48 hours later, as promised. Enjoy the caffeine, Lewis.” She gaped at the box, the color scheme suddenly making a lot more sense. “Oh my god.”

 “Is that a yes or no on the secret admirer?”

“He’s taken,” Darcy said. “But he has more money and free time than sense.”

“Would you like me to help you get that upstairs, miss?”

“Yeah, thanks, Marco.”

 

  
***

 

 **TheOfficialDarcy @IAmIronMan** a caffeinated toast to your engineering skills! Jane and I are now your biggest fans  <image attached>

 

 **IAmIronMan @TheOfficialDarcy** <image attached>

 

 **TheOfficialDarcy @IAmIronMan** IS THAT A ROBOT WITH A CUP OF COFFEE IT’S TOO CUTE

 

 **IAmIronMan @TheOfficialDarcy** you want him, he's yours

 

 **PepperPottsSI @IAmIronMan @TheOfficialDarcy** Tony you can't just give DUM-E away. Enjoy the coffee, Darcy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My PhD coursework begins on Monday (8/29), which means I'll have less free time to write, so there's a definite chance I won't be able to update weekly moving forward, and may be moving to an every-other-week schedule.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy continues her interviews for Peggy's biography, but it's probably not who you expected; a certain spy makes a surprise appearance at Darcy's favorite coffee shop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my workload this semester is literally INSANE, so I can only ask that you are patient as I try to update this. I have more bits and bobbles drafted beyond this, so updates will be forthcoming, it just takes a lot longer to get my ducks in a row when I have a million other things on my plate.

**TheOfficialDarcy** did I ever tell you guys about that time I saw a dude walking his lizard in the park?

**TheOfficialDarcy** it was wearing a purple harness and sunning itself on the sidewalk. Totally casual.

**AntonioOnBroadway @TheOfficialDarcy** ...wut

**MarciaMarciaMarcia @AntonioOnBroadway @TheOfficialDarcy** PICS OR IT DIDN’T HAPPEN

**TheOfficialDarcy @AntonioOnBroadway @MarciaMarciaMarcia** <image attached>

**MarciaMarciaMarcia @TheOfficialDarcy** you have the weirdest life

**TheOfficialDarcy @MarciaMarciaMarcia** c’mon that CANNOT be the weirdest thing you’ve ever witnessed in NYC. y’all need to get out more.

**AntonioOnBroadway @MarciaMarciaMarcia @TheOfficial Darcy** I grew up in the Bronx and I have never seen a lizard out for an afternoon stroll. It’s like you attract the strangeness to yourself.

**TheOfficialDarcy @AntonioOnBroadway @MarciaMarciaMarcia**  bring me your strange, your weird, your peculiar masses, New York City, and I shall document them on the twitter

  
  


***

  
  


“Do you have any idea how unorthodox this is?”

 

“Not really, no,” Darcy sighed. “Look, if you can’t talk then just hang up the phone and forget this ever happened. Otherwise we can bemoan Peggy’s disregard for rules together until you need to go off and save the world, or whatever it is that you do.”

 

Nick Fury stared at the phone on the desk in his office, wondering when Peggy Carter was going to stop being a nuisance for him, and sighed. “The woman has been retired for over twenty years and she still manages to boss me around.”

 

“Did anyone actually tell her she was retired? Because sometimes I think that she thinks that she just runs SHIELD from home.”

 

“To tell the truth, Miss Lewis, sometimes I think so too.”

  
  


 

***

 

 

Darcy looked up in surprise as a woman slid into the chair across from hers and set a mug of tea on the table, a safe distance away from Darcy’s laptop.

 

“Oh my god.”

 

There was really no mistaking her, because she hadn’t bothered to wear a wig, although she was wearing a pair of thick, plastic-framed glasses. Natasha Romanov.

 

The Black Widow. 

The Russian Avenger. 

The Slavic Shadow. 

The Red Death.

 

(Basically, she had a lot of nicknames and Darcy had been spending enough time poking around to know all the ones on public record by now.)

 

“Is this your way of telling me that I shouldn’t have such a predictable schedule?”

Natasha smiled at her, looking almost proud, and settled more into the chair. “You’re a civilian. I’d be concerned if your schedule wasn’t predictable.”

“You know, Steve led me to believe that you might just show up inside my apartment without warning, so really I suppose this is you demonstrating restraint.”

“Just because I show up in  _ his _ apartment using unconventional access points doesn’t mean I am completely without a sense of boundaries,” Natasha scoffed. “He is too sensitive.”

“But now that we have met in person, how long before you  _ do _ just show up at the apartment?”

Natasha shrugged. “It’s not really a quantifiable thing.”

“So it could literally happen at any time.”

“Yes.”

“Good to know.”

“How is Peggy’s biography coming?” Natasha asked as she delicately took a sip from her mug.

Darcy shrugged. “Well enough, I suppose, considering how much is still classified.”

“I understand you spoke with Nick the other day.” Natasha smirked. “He’s still mad that Peggy gave you his phone number.”

“Total breach of national security, I know.”

“Mostly he just hates talking on the phone,” Natasha said. “But I suppose that isn’t untrue, if you want to be paranoid about it.”

“Aren’t all of you paranoid about everything?”

“Of course not,” Natasha scoffed. “Why, did Steve say something  to you about me being paranoid?”

Darcy arched an eyebrow and sat back in her chair. “I can’t tell if you’re playing with me or if you actually walked into that delicious bit of irony unintentionally.”

“And I’ll never tell.”

“Rude.”

“I have to protect what little air of mystery I have left to my name,” Natasha said, suddenly sober. “Sometimes it is the only currency we have.”

“As a celebrity or as a spy?”

She blinked back at Darcy over the rim of her mug. “Both, I guess. Although I never think of myself as a celebrity.”

“I guess it depends on how long SHIELD keeps your identity a secret,” Darcy acknowledged. “Any word on whether that will be permanent?”

“Nick is still arguing with his babysitters about that mess.”

“And you just have to wait for their answer.”

“Government work,” Natasha sighed, “has its distinct disadvantages. But I do have excellent health insurance.”

“Alas, the freelance author before you is entirely uninsured at the moment. Pray for my health,” Darcy said as she raised her own mug in a jaunty toast, “and that I will not be hit by a bike messenger when I walk home today.”

“You should have heard Steve complaining about the bike messengers when he first moved back to the city,” Natasha murmured, leaning forward. “If you wanted proof that he really was a crotchety ninety-year-old man underneath all that muscle, that would have done it.”

“So what you’re saying is that I should bring up bike messengers next time I see him,” Darcy deadpanned.

“Only if you’re in the mood for self-righteous indignation,” Natasha warned. 

“Really, any discussion of road safety coming from a man who rides a motorcycle despite never having actually taken a driving test is an exercise in hypocrisy,” Darcy muttered as she tore off a piece of her croissant. “The one and only time Steve drove a vehicle with the Commandos he nearly drove straight through the middle of a Hydra munitions dump and killed them all. Morita claimed that Steve’s driving was the reason he got his first grey hair, you know.”

Natasha’s grin was terrifying. “You have officially made my day. Possibly my week.”

  
“Uh-oh.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a photoset for this chapter is [here](https://pepperpottsblogs.tumblr.com/post/150659809135/stars-and-stripes-an-american-musical-chapter) on tumblr!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy gets an important phone call for a new job and interviews a very familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I am sure most of you have gathered by now, my semester has been positively **insane** and I cannot wait to be done with it. BUT it's Thanksgiving and you have all been so so so wonderful and I wanted to give you a little treat.

**Nat:** heads up, you will be getting an important phone call this evening

**Darcy:** it’s Sunday, nobody makes important phone calls on a Sunday night

**Nat:** they do when they have a deadline

  
  


***

 

“Where’s Darcy?” Jake mumbled around a bite of pizza. “I thought she was here for Family Dinner.”

 

“She had an important phone call that she needed to take,” Jane said.

 

“It’s Sunday,” Marcia pointed out. “Who makes business calls on a Sunday?”

 

“Jane said it was important, but she didn’t say it had anything to do with  _ business _ ,” Antonio teased.

 

“We would know if she had a boyfriend,” Marcia argued.

 

“Or girlfriend,” Sasha piped up.

 

Jane rolled her eyes and grabbed a second slice of veggie pizza. “She’s not dating anyone, and she really did say she had an important  _ business _ call. Can somebody pass me the Dr. Pepper?”

  
  
  


A few minutes later, the group tracked Darcy as she walked back into the room and flopped into the seat next to Jane, eyes glazed. 

 

Jane sighed and started loading up a plate for Darcy, pulling mushrooms off a slice of veggie pizza and putting them on her own plate before setting it in front of Darcy.

 

“You okay, Darce?” Antonio asked, eyebrows raised. 

 

“Fine,” Darcy said, voice faint. “I’m fine.”

 

Jake side-eyed her and grabbed his third slice of pepperoni pizza. “This is one of those times when we’re supposed to listen to  _ how _ you said that and not what you actually said, isn’t it?”

 

Marcia narrowed her eyes and examined Darcy for a moment before asking, “Is this the ‘good surprise’ kind of fine or the ‘someone is going to regret being born as soon as I have a cup of coffee’ kind of fine?”

 

Darcy blinked down at the suddenly full plate of food in front of her and took the cup of soda that Antonio pressed into her hands. “They want me to interview Tony Stark.”

 

“ _ Who _ wants you to interview Stark?” Jane asked.

 

“Interview magazine. They’re doing a special issue--hero themed. Stark said he wouldn’t do it unless I agreed to be his interviewer.”

 

Antonio pretended to wipe a tear away from under his eye. “My little baby, all grown up and being specially requested by Iron Man himself.”

 

Jane popped a mushroom into her mouth and bumped shoulders with Darcy. “Make sure you tell him thank you from me for the magically engineered coffee maker.”

 

“And ask if he has a spare one lying around that he can toss my way,” Marcia chirped. 

 

  
****

 

_**Interview Transcription** _

_**Subject: Tony Stark** _

_**Project: Interview Magazine, Heroes Special Issue** _

 

**DL:** “Do you consider yourself a hero?”

**TS:** “That’s a trick question.”

**DL:** “How so?”

**TS:** “I say yes, it’s because I’m a narcissistic megalomaniac. I say no, it’s false modesty.”

**DL:** “Has anyone ever  _ told _ you that you were their hero?”

**TS:** “Yeah, letters from kids, stuff like that.”

**DL:** “So couldn’t you have just said yes, that you are a hero in other people’s eyes and that’s all that matters?”

**TS:** “Right. Let’s pretend I did that. What about you?”

**DL:** “What about me?”

**TS:** “Do you consider yourself to be a hero?”

**DL:** “No. I’m the storyteller. I record the heroes’ deeds for posterity. Isn’t that why you asked me to do this?”

**TS:** “Mostly I just wanted to finally see you in person and get your feedback on the coffee maker I sent you.”

**DL:** “It’s a wonderful coffee maker.”

**TS:** “Best you ever had?”

**DL:** “Definitely. You thinking about trying to go mass-market?”

**TS:** “My people tell me it would be cost-prohibitive.”

**DL:** “Think of the greater good, Tony. Marcia’s begging for one!”

**TS:** “I don’t think that’s what people normally have in mind when they talk about ‘heroic deeds.’”

**DL:** “Every graduate student I have ever known would vehemently disagree.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be more of Darcy's interview with Tony to come, I promise. But this seemed like a reasonable stopping point since I have to get back to my research papers :(
> 
> A very happy Thanksgiving to my American readers, and a heartfelt thank you from me to all of you for all of your incredible support and enthusiasm for this story. <3 <3 <3
> 
> ((also sorry to get all self-promotional on you, but I recently opened an [etsy shop](https://www.etsy.com/shop/FancyAStitch) to sell my knit+crochet projects, and I'd really appreciate it if you folks would check it out! There are some great Christmas/Hanukkah present options in there.))


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy interviews Tony Stark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have reproduced the snippet of Darcy's interview that was in the last chapter here as well, so you can have an idea of where it falls in the timeline.

Darcy walked into the lobby of Stark Tower, hyped up on nerves and too much caffeine, twenty minutes early for her meeting with Tony Stark.

She checked in at the front desk and proceeded to spend the next fifteen minutes perched in a horribly uncomfortable piece of minimalist furniture. (Was it a couch? A bench? Who knew?)

She caught herself biting her fingernails around minute eight and promptly sat on both her hands to get herself to stop, because if she met Pepper Potts with a bloody hangnail and shredded cuticles she would never forgive herself.

 

 

“Miss Lewis? Mister Stark is ready for you.”

 

Darcy clumsily gathered her things and stood up, nodding to the guy who had been sent to fetch her. He was white, middle-aged, with the kind of build that spoke of an athletic youth and an abruptly slowed metabolism when he hit forty.

 

“And you are?”

He stopped short and turned to look at her. “Pardon?”

Darcy smiled and adjusted the strap of her messenger bag. “I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Happy.” He started walking forward again almost before the word was out of his mouth. “Happy Hogan.”

Darcy smiled and nodded. “Nice to meet you, Happy. I imagine that can be a difficult name to live up to on a day-to-day basis. Especially around Tony Stark.”

“Mr. Stark is a good man,” Happy said, a bit stiffly, as they got into the elevator.

“I never said he wasn’t,” Darcy said, apologetic. “Only that he gets himself into some rather spectacularly dangerous situations on a regular basis. I imagine that can be stressful for someone who works with him and cares about him.”

Happy seemed to soften at that. “He usually means well, Miss.”

“My father used to say that about the dog who shredded our newspaper when he carried it inside every morning, too.” Darcy shrugged. “Good people are rarely perfect. And perfect people are far too boring.”

“Then I dare say you and Mr. Stark should get on just fine,” Happy said as he ushered her out of the elevator.

  


***

 

Tony Stark was somehow, inexplicably, even more _himself_ than Darcy had expected. The public persona, brash and sarcastic and witty, was not an act that he slipped into for the cameras. He gesticulated wildly, he rambled at a mile-a-minute, and he drank without regard for societal expectations.

He had poured himself a tumbler of several fingers worth of scotch before he walked over to stand in front of the couch across from her. Tony then offered her a drink of her own, “lady’s choice” from his respectably well-stocked mini bar. Given that Darcy had yet to eat lunch for the day, she declined.

 

“You sure?” he shot back. “It’s the good stuff.” He shook the glass in his hand and glanced at it, as if examining the color. “This was my dad’s favorite, apparently. There’s cases of the stuff in storage at the mansion.”

“Do you go back there very often?” Darcy asked, hoping he would take the cue to sit down.

“Never,” Tony muttered.

“But you grew up there?”

“I lived there until I started at MIT.” He took a large gulp of his scotch and sat down across from her. “But your readers won’t want to hear about that. They’re after heroics.”

“And you don’t like to talk about your father,” Darcy said with a small sympathetic smile. “Point taken.”

  
***  


**Interview Transcription**

**Subject: Tony Stark**

**Project: Interview Magazine, Heroes Special Issue**

 

DL: “Do you consider yourself a hero?”

TS: “That’s a trick question.”

DL:“How so?”

TS: “I say yes, it’s because I’m a narcissistic megalomaniac. I say no, it’s false modesty.”

DL: “Has anyone ever _told_ you that you were their hero?”

TS: “Yeah, letters from kids, stuff like that.”

DL: “So couldn’t you have just said yes, that you are a hero in other people’s eyes and that’s all that matters?”

TS: “Right. Let’s pretend I did that. What about you?”

DL: “What about me?”

TS: “Do you consider yourself to be a hero?”

DL: “No. I’m the storyteller. I record the heroes’ deeds for posterity. Isn’t that why you asked me to do this?”

TS: “Mostly I just wanted to finally see you in person and get your feedback on the coffee maker I sent you.”

DL: “It’s a wonderful coffee maker.”

TS: “Best you ever had?”

DL: “Definitely. You thinking about trying to go mass-market?”

TS: “My people tell me it would be cost-prohibitive.”

DL: “Think of the greater good, Tony. Marcia’s begging for one!”

TS: “I don’t think that’s what people normally have in mind when they talk about ‘heroic deeds.’”

DL: “Every graduate student I have ever known would vehemently disagree.”

 

***

 

“You’ve been fairly reticent about the time you spent as a hostage in Afghanistan a few years ago, but you have consistently mentioned Dr. Yinsen, and the vital role he played in your escape.”

Tony took a large sip of scotch. “He was the only reason I got out.”

“Tell me about him,” Darcy murmured. “What was he like?”

“Brilliant,” Tony grunted. “And calm. No matter what happened, the whole time we were together, he was always so calm.” Tony’s voice grew quiet. “Maybe because he wasn’t afraid to die.”

“He wasn’t?” 

“He said he was going to be reunited with his family,” Tony said, voice raw. “He didn’t want me to save him. He never planned on getting out of there alive.”

“But he still did everything he could to help you escape first,” Darcy pointed out.

“He was a real hero,” Tony said. “Not me.”

Darcy blinked in surprise. “What are you talking about? I am alive right now, at this moment, because of what you did during the Battle of New York. Everyone in this city is alive because you were willing to die in order to save us. How is that any different than what Dr. Yinsen did for you in Afghanistan?”

Tony ground his teeth and drained his glass before walking over to the minibar for a refill.

Darcy reached forward and turned off the recording software on her laptop, deliberate and overt. “Being afraid to die doesn’t make you any less of a hero, Tony. I cannot imagine what it was like to make that decision, and to know that you would probably never get to see Pepper again.”

“I tried to call her,” Tony said, his back to her still. “As I was flying. I couldn’t get through.”

Darcy examined the stiff line of his shoulders and the fresh (full) tumbler of scotch in front of him and thought about his late nights building robots, and blurted out, “Do you have post traumatic stress disorder?”

The room was suddenly stuck in a moment of tension, thick and acrid, before Tony slumped and shrugged and turned to face her. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You haven’t been to see a therapist? Tony, I know it isn’t my place, but someone who has been through even a fraction of the things that you have, even before Afghanistan, would have more than enough reason.”

“I don’t believe in psychiatry,” Tony snarked. “And I don’t need somebody with a graduate degree to tell me that I have daddy issues.”

“Tony, you were held hostage for months by terrorists. You watched a friend die so that you could escape from them. A man you regarded as a father figure betrayed you and tried to kill you. And that was all in the span of a few months, and plenty has happened since then.” Darcy leaned her elbows on her knees and ran her hands through her hair before looking him in the eye. “When you flew that nuke into a wormhole over New York City, you didn’t think you would make it out. And recklessly endangering your own life and taking on the mantle of a self-sacrificing hero to make up for the sins of your father and the company that you inherited are symptoms in and of themselves of PTSD. But those moments, when you shouldered a nuclear weapon and flew into space, and saw god knows what before you fell back to earth in a depowered suit--that is the kind of thing that you can’t just ignore. You can’t deflect it, or cover it up with a well-timed joke, or drink until you forget it.”

“I can certainly try,” Tony mumbled into the tumbler of scotch that he raised to his lips.

Darcy narrowed her eyes and shot back, “And how did that work out for your father, Tony? Did you like the man that he became? Are those footsteps you’d be proud to walk in?”

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that?”

Despite the annoyance in his tone, there was a tiny glint of begrudging admiration in his eyes.

“My grandmother used to say that my grandfather lived to be 95 on silence and ouzo, but that she had outlived him by being a pain in the ass. Being a piece of work runs in my family.”

“So we do have something in common.”

“Apparently.”

  
  
***  
  


Although Darcy had feared that getting confrontational with Tony would likely result in her being thrown out of Stark Tower and the interview being canned permanently, he seemed instead, against all expectations, to relax around her. It was as if Darcy, by proving that she could see and acknowledge the flaws in him without giving up on him or branding him an anti-hero, had leveled-up in Tony Stark’s world. He had settled back onto the couch, stopped drinking his scotch like it was water, and told her to turn the recorder back on so that she could finish what she came to do.

 

“What’s it like, working with a team?”

“Took some adjusting at first,” Tony acknowledged. “I’m somewhat notorious for being a lone ranger type. But just like with anything, I think it’s important to have the right people for the job, and they each bring skillsets to the table that make us more effective as a whole than we would be individually.”

“There are groups, however, that have expressed reservations about your methods in the past, and many blame you for damages to private property in disaster zones where the Avengers battle their various foes.”

“And we have established a rebuilding fund that helps to defray costs to private citizens and municipal governments,” Tony shot back. “I learned what happens when you forget about the aftermath of wars and the civilians who are involved in fights they never asked for. We do everything we can to stabilize situations before we leave, and to make sure that those places have the resources they need to rebuild and get back on their feet. But we are called in to fight enemies that normal agencies or troops don’t have the capability to defeat, and it is impossible to do that without any impact. Our priority is always to protect civilian lives. Buildings, infrastructure,” Tony motioned vaguely to the skyscrapers visible in the windows around him, “those can be rebuilt. That's just a question of money. Our goal is to save _people_. And we do the best we can with what we have.”

 

  
***

 

“Who are _your_ heroes?” Darcy asked for her final question.

 

“Rhodey and Pepper,” Tony answered, no hesitation. “And my mom.”

  
***  
  


**BREAKING NEWS: Darcy Lewis Spotted Shopping with New Beau!**

**BREAKING NEWS: Is Darcy Lewis Now Singing a Duet? The New Man in her Life**

 

 **TheOfficialDarcy @USWeekly @PerezHilton** that is literally my brother

 **TheOfficialDarcy**   **@USWeekly @PerezHilton** from The Same Mother

 **TheOfficialDarcy @USWeekly @PerezHilton** PLZ STOP REPORTING WITHOUT CHECKING YOUR FACTS THANKS

 

 **Motormouth @TheOfficialDarcy** what grown woman holds her brother’s hand?

 **TheOfficialDarcy** **@Motormouth** he holds my hand when we go crowded places bc I tend to wander off when left to my own devices

 **TheOfficialDarcy @Motormouth** he lost me at Disney World when I was 6, was chastised by our parents for YEARS. He never recovered.

 **TheOfficialDarcy @Motormouth** we play a lot of Marco Polo. I am always Polo.

 

 **MarciaMarciaMarcia @TheOfficialDarcy** MARCO

 **TheOfficialDarcy @MarciaMarciaMarcia** POLO

 

 **IAmIronMan @TheOfficialDarcy @MarciaMarciaMarcia** you know they invented this thing called GPS right

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very happy new year my dear readers! May 2017 be kind and generous to you all.
> 
> (( photoset for this chapter can be found [here](https://pepperpottsblogs.tumblr.com/post/155144684625/stars-and-stripes-an-american-musical-chapter) on tumblr! ))

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Stars and Stripes: an American Musical Soundtrack](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7360732) by [Squirrel_Stone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squirrel_Stone/pseuds/Squirrel_Stone)




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